“Time for lunch,” said Mr. Brooke, looking at his watch.  “Commissary general, will you make the fire and get water, while Miss March, Miss Sallie, and I spread the table?  Who can make good coffee?”

“Jo can,” said Meg, glad to recommend her sister.  So Jo, feeling that her late lessons in cookery were to do her honor, went to preside over the coffeepot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys made a fire and got water from a spring near by.  Miss Kate sketched and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes to serve as plates.

The commander in chief and his aides soon spread the tablecloth with an inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green leaves.  Jo announced that the coffee was ready, and everyone settled themselves to a hearty meal, for youth is seldom dyspeptic, and exercise develops wholesome appetites.  A very merry lunch it was, for everything seemed fresh and funny, and frequent peals of laughter startled a venerable horse who fed near by.  There was a pleasing inequality in the table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates, acorns dropped in the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree to see what was going on.  Three white-headed children peeped over the fence, and an objectionable dog barked at them from the other side of the river with all his might and main.

“There’s salt here,” said Laurie, as he handed Jo a saucer of berries.

“Thank you, I prefer spiders,” she replied, fishing up two unwary little ones who had gone to a creamy death.  “How dare you remind me of that horrid dinner party, when yours is so nice in every way?” added Jo, as they both laughed and ate out of one plate, the china having run short.

“I had an uncommonly good time that day, and haven’t got over it yet.  This is no credit to me, you know, I don’t do anything.  It’s you and Meg and Brooke who make it all go, and I’m no end obliged to you.  What shall we do when we can’t eat anymore?” asked Laurie, feeling that his trump card had been played when lunch was over.

“Have games till it’s cooler.  I brought Authors, and I dare say Miss Kate knows something new and nice.  Go and ask her.  She’s company, and you ought to stay with her more.”

“Aren’t you company too?  I thought she’d suit Brooke, but he keeps talking to Meg, and Kate just stares at them through that ridiculous glass of hers.  I’m going, so you needn’t try to preach propriety, for you can’t do it, Jo.”

Miss Kate did know several new games, and as the girls would not, and the boys could not, eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing room to play Rig-marole.

“One person begins a story, any nonsense you like, and tells as long as he pleases, only taking care to stop short at some exciting point, when the next takes it up and does the same.  It’s very funny when well done, and makes a perfect jumble of tragical comical stuff to laugh over.  Please start it, Mr. Brooke,” said Kate, with a commanding air, which surprised Meg, who treated the tutor with as much respect as any other gentleman.