“It would be lovely if she could.  Do you suppose there is any chance?”

“I wrote her week before last, but she hasn’t answered yet.  Of course it depends on how she is; but the accounts from her have been pretty good this year.”

“What is the other thing you have set your heart on?  You said ‘two.’”

“The other is that Rose Red shall be here, and little Rose.  I wrote to her the other day also, and coaxed hard.  Wouldn’t it be too enchanting?  You know how we have always longed to have her in Burnet; and if she could come now it would make everything twice as pleasant.”

“Katy, what an enchanting thought!” cried Clover, who had not seen Rose since they all left Hillsover.  “It would be the greatest lark that ever was to have the Roses.  When do you suppose we shall hear?  I can hardly wait, I am in such a hurry to have her say ‘Yes.’”

“But suppose she says ’No’?”

“I won’t think of such a possibility.  Now go on.  I suppose your principles don’t preclude a wedding-cake?”

“On the contrary, they include a great deal of wedding-cake.  I want to send a box to everybody in Burnet,—­all the poor people, I mean, and the old people and the children at the Home and those forlorn creatures at the poor-house and all papa’s patients.”

“But, Katy, that will cost a lot,” objected the thrifty Clover.

“I know it; so we must do it in the cheapest way, and make the cake ourselves.  I have Aunt Izzy’s recipe, which is a very good one; and if we all take hold, it won’t be such an immense piece of work.  Debby has quantities of raisins stoned already.  She has been doing them in the evenings a few at a time for the last month.  Mrs. Ashe knows a factory where you can get the little white boxes for ten dollars a thousand, and I have commissioned her to send for five hundred.”

“Five hundred!  What an immense quantity!”

“Yes; but there are all the Hillsover girls to be remembered, and all our kith and kin, and everybody at the wedding will want one.  I don’t think it will be too many.  Oh, I have arranged it all in my mind.  Johnnie will slice the citron, Elsie will wash the currants, Debby measure and bake, Alexander mix, you and I will attend to the icing, and all of us will cut it up.”

“Alexander!”

“Alexander.  He is quite pleased with the idea, and has constructed an implement—­a sort of spade, cut out of new pine wood—­for the purpose.  He says it will be a sight easier than digging flower-beds.  We will set about it next week; for the cake improves by keeping, and as it is the heaviest job we have to do, it will be well to get it out of the way early.”

“Sha’n’t you have a floral bell, or a bower to stand in, or something of that kind?” ventured Clover, timidly.

“Indeed I shall not,” replied Katy.  “I particularly dislike floral bells and bowers.  They are next worst to anchors and harps and ‘floral pillows’ and all the rest of the dreadful things that they have at funerals.  No, we will have plenty of fresh flowers, but not in stiff arrangements.  I want it all to seem easy and to be easy.  Don’t look so disgusted, Clovy.”