A bridesmaid-elect hurries up the steps, runs into the best man carrying out the luggage; much conversation and giggling and guessing as to where the luggage is going.  Best man very important, also very noble and silent.  Bridesmaid shrugs her shoulders, dashes up to the bride’s room and dashes down again.

More presents arrive.  The furniture movers have come and are carting lumps of heaviness up the stairs to the attic and down the stairs to the cellar.  It is all very like an ant-hill.  Some are steadily going forward with the business in hand, but others who have become quite bewildered, seem to be scurrying aimlessly this way and that, picking something up only to put it down again.

=THE DRAWING-ROOM=

Here, where the bride and groom are to receive, one can not tell yet what the decoration is to be.  Perhaps it is a hedged-in garden scene, a palm grove, a flowering recess, a screen and canopy of wedding bells—­but a bower of foliage of some sort is gradually taking shape.

=THE DINING-ROOM=

The dining-room, too, blossoms with plants and flowers.  Perhaps its space and that of a tent adjoining is filled with little tables, or perhaps a single row of camp chairs stands flat against the walls, and in the center of the room, the dining table pulled out to its farthest extent, is being decked with trimmings and utensils which will be needed later when the spaces left at intervals for various dishes shall be occupied.  Preparation of these dishes is meanwhile going on in the kitchen.

=THE KITCHEN=

The caterer’s chefs in white cook’s caps and aprons are in possession of the situation, and their assistants run here and there, bringing ingredients as they are told; or perhaps the caterer brings everything already prepared, in which case the waiters are busy unpacking the big tin boxes and placing the bain-marie (a sort of fireless cooker receptacle in a tank of hot water) from which the hot food is to be served.  Huge tubs of cracked ice in which the ice cream containers are buried are already standing in the shade of the areaway or in the back yard.

=LAST PREPARATIONS=

Back again in the drawing-room, the florist and his assistants are still tying and tacking and arranging and adjusting branches and garlands and sheaves and bunches, and the floor is a litter of twigs and strings and broken branches.  The photographer is asking that the central decoration be finished so he can group his pictures, the florist assures him that he is as busy as possible.

The house is as cold as open windows can make it, to keep the flowers fresh, and to avoid stuffiness.  The door-bell continues its ringing, and the parlor maid finds herself a contestant in a marathon, until some one decides that card envelopes and telegrams had better be left in the front hall.

A first bridesmaid arrives.  She at least is on time.  All decoration activity stops while she is looked at and admired.  Panic seizes some one!  The time is too short, nothing will be ready!  Some one else says the bridesmaid is far too early, there is no end of time.