“No, it isn’t!  Who knows?”

“Invite in nine more people,” suggested Mr. Maynard.

“No; that’s not it!  Oh, it’s easy!  Don’t you know, Mother?  I mean, Helen?”

But they all gave it up, so Marjorie announced the solution, which is, “Make apple sauce!”

“History lesson, now,” said King.  “Edward, who discovered America?”

“Pocahontas,” replied Mr. Maynard.

“Right.  Who was Pocahontas?”

“A noble Indian Princess, who was born July 29th, 1563.”

“Very good.  Ethel, describe the Battle of Bunker Hill.”

“I can’t; I wasn’t there.”

“You should have gone,” reprimanded King, severely.  “Didn’t you read the newspaper accounts of it?”

“Yes, but I didn’t believe them.”

“Jack Bryant, can you describe this famous battle?”

“Yes, sir.  It was fought under the shadow of the Bunker Hill Monument.  At sundown the shadow ceased, so they all said, ’Disperse ye rebels, and lay down your arms!’ So they laid down their arms and went to sleep.”

“Very well done, Master Bryant.  Now, we’re going to speak pieces.  Each pupil will speak a piece or write a composition.  You may take your choice.”

“I’ll speak a piece!  Let me speak first!” exclaimed Cousin Ethel, jumping up and down.  “May I speak now, Teacher!”

“Yes, Ethel, dear,” said Midget, kindly; “you may speak your piece first.  Stand up here, by me.  Make your bow.”

So Cousin Ethel came up to Marjorie, and acted like a very shy and bashful child.  She put her finger in her mouth, and dropped her eyes and wriggled about, and picked at her skirt, until everybody was in peals of laughter.

“Be quiet, children,” said Midget, trying to control her own face.  “Now, everybody sit still while Ethel Bryant recites.”

Cousin Ethel made a very elaborate dancing-school bow, and then, swaying back and forth in school-child fashion, she recited in a monotonous singsong, these lines: 

    “MUD PIES

    “The grown-ups are the queerest folks; they never seem to know
    That mud pies always have to be made just exactly so. 
    You have to have a nice back yard, a sunny pleasant day,
    And then you ask some boys and girls to come around and play. 
    You mix some mud up in a pail, and stir it with a stick;
    It mustn’t be a bit too thin—­and not a bit too thick. 
    And then you make it into pies, and pat it with your hand,
    And bake ’em on a nice flat board, and my! but they are grand!”

Mrs. Bryant declaimed, with suitable gestures, and finally sat down on the floor and made imaginary mud pies, in such a dear, childish way that her audience was delighted, and gave her really earnest encores.

“Do you know another piece, Ethel?” asked Marjorie.

“Yes, ma’am,” and Mrs. Bryant resumed her shy voice and manner.