“What on earth is Betsey doing with that pail?” asked Cousin Margaret in amazement. She and Mother sat one afternoon in the cool sewing-room as Betsey passed the door lugging a pail of soapsuds.

“Betsey, what are you up to? Cleaning house?” she called, laughing.

“Just so,” replied Betsey, coming back slowly and setting her steaming pail on the floor. “You see, Mrs. Delight’s house needs a thorough cleaning all over before company comes, so today Dinah and Mrs. Delight clean house.”

“You funny child!” said Cousin Margaret, letting her dainty work fall to the table. “Do you mean to say you really scrub?”

“Scrub!” echoed Betsey, lifting her pail again. “Say, come on up with me and see!”

Cousin Margaret was very young and very pretty, and she really didn’t have the slightest idea how one cleaned a doll-house. So with a little wink at Mother, she followed Betsey up the stairs.

When she saw Betsey’s collection of house-cleaning materials, she sank weakly into a big chair and stared. There was a stiff brush, and a soft brush, and a cake of sapolio; a whole basketful of soft cloths, and a chamois skin.

“What’s the chamois skin for?” she asked.

“To clean the mirrors,” said Betsey.

“Well, I do declare!” was all Cousin Margaret could say. But pretty soon she leaned forward and began to watch Betsey with a little secret admiration. Mrs. Delight was already dressed in one of her fresh morning dresses, white apron and ruffled sweeping cap, and she and Dinah were supposed to be moving all the furniture into the drawing-room. Mr. Delight sat stiffly on the window-seat and watched.

“You see, Cousin Margaret,” explained Betsey, “Mrs. Delight’s twin sister and her husband are coming to visit. (Those are Anne’s old dolls she lets me take.) And Mr. Delight is going to the post-office to mail the invitation. I’ll tell you,—I’ll put him in the car with Dumpling and make Mrs. Delight and Dinah wave to him, and then you can attend to him while I clean house. Water’s getting cold!”

“How stylish and proper he do look,—a-driving dat kerridge!” suddenly observed Betsey in Dinah’s pleasant voice.

“Why, Betsey, how you scared me! I thought you really were another person!” exclaimed Cousin Margaret, looking up from the post-office. But when she once looked up from the post-office she couldn’t look back again, for there was Betsey on her knees, going at the little house with the largest scrubbing-brush as if the dirt were inches thick.

“You’ll take the paint off!” screamed Cousin Margaret.

“Take the paint off!” echoed Betsey. “Just see here.” She doubled her cloth over a skewer and began digging out the corners of the little dining-room windows. And when the room was clean enough, she wiped the smooth floor vigorously back and forth with a clean cloth.

“Now see the difference,” she announced, looking first at the clean dining-room and then at the drawing-room.

“Why, the other is actually gray, isn’t it?” said Cousin Margaret, peering in at the little room. “Don’t you want to let me do this one?”

“O thank you!” cried Betsey, seizing the carpets to shake out of the window. So Cousin Margaret promptly began her first house-cleaning. As she polished off the threshold, she heard a gentle thud, thud, over by the desk, so she took her head out of the house to see what was going on. There sat Betsey beating pillows with two of the tiniest little carpet-beaters you ever saw. They were made of twisted wires, exactly like big ones, only so small that they made you laugh to look at them. Cousin Margaret laughed. But she had to own up that the rooms looked very fresh and sweet, as they put back the clean carpets and dusted furniture.

“What does your Mrs. Delight do to entertain her guests?” she asked.

“I thought they could have a picnic,” said Betsey, pausing a moment to think. “I have a pattern for a dandy lunch-basket. And Tom has the dearest little canoe!”

“Has he, indeed?” observed Tom’s voice around the corner.

“You’ll lend it, won’t you?” pleaded Betsey.

“It makes a good deal of difference what it’s wanted for,” replied Tom, with his hands in his pockets.

“Well, the Delights are going to have a picnic, and they go to a certain grove, like Brighton’s Lake, you know, where they have canoes to rent. And I have everything but the canoe, Tom.”

“Everything?” questioned Tom. “Have you a Thermos bottle?”

“Hum!” said Cousin Margaret loudly. “I’ll make the Thermos bottles for you,—one quart size, and one pint. I’d love to!”

“How are you going to make them, Cousin Margaret?” asked Tom respectfully.

“If you children will come down street with me, and show me the nearest gum machine,—the kind where the gum is done up in silver paper, you know,—I’ll let you watch me!” bargained Cousin Margaret, determined now to make a perfectly wonderful article.

“What does she want gum for?” giggled Betsey, scurrying down-stairs behind Tom.

“She wants the silver paper,” said Tom wisely.

And that was exactly what she did want at the time, but when the happy trio stood before the red machine in the grocery store, and the thin stick of gum came shooting out into Cousin Margaret’s hands, she had another idea.

“Come, we’ll buy three sticks, and I’ll hire you to chew one apiece,” she said. “Peel off the silver paper without tearing it.”

“I don’t like gum after the wintergreen flavor goes,” said Betsey, chewing hard.

“You can’t have it anyway,” said Cousin Margaret severely. “Didn’t I buy it for my quart bottle?”

“You’re going to mold it!” cried Betsey, skipping along the sidewalk. “Aren’t you clever!”

Mother smiled when she saw them go upstairs again, and she went quietly out to the pantry without saying a word.

Cousin Margaret sat down at Mr. Betts’ work-table with a mighty puff. She smoothed away on the bright tin-foil until it shone like solid silver. Then she molded her soft chewing-gum carefully into a tiny pint bottle. She clipped off a long strip of tin-foil and wound it around the bottle, pinched the top a little, and glued on a paper label.

“Keeps cold twenty-four hours!” she cried, holding it out for inspection.

“Good!” shouted Tom and Betsey.

“Hand over your gum, children,” said Cousin Margaret. “It takes two for a quart. You can be making the lunch-basket.”

“Weren’t you going to play tennis this afternoon?” asked Betsey thoughtfully. “Mother said I mustn’t bother you.”

“I was, but I’m not,” replied Cousin Margaret recklessly. “I’d rather play picnic, and sail your canoe in the bathtub.”

Tom slipped quietly down-stairs at mention of the bathtub, and neither the little girl nor the big girl noticed.

“O William, here come Prudence and John!” cried Cousin Margaret in Mrs. Delight’s silvery voice, rushing Mrs. Delight to the front door.

“Here we are!” shouted Betsey for Mr. Darling. “It’s so much fun to have somebody else manage all these dolls, Cousin Margaret!”

“Suppose you manage the Delights,” suggested Cousin Margaret in an undertone, “and let me have the company.”

“I’d rather,” said Betsey, joyfully, taking charge at once of Mr. Delight, who was not helping his guests properly.

“Keep your dog off!” said Cousin Margaret, making Mr. Darling rush at Dumpling in the most ridiculous manner.

“Are you tired, Prudence?” asked Mrs. Delight.

“Tired? No!” said Mrs. Darling.

Betsey made Mr. and Mrs. Delight look at each other.

“Why, what’s up?” questioned Mr. Darling, sitting down on the tiny piano stool.

“We thought,” began Betsey in Mrs. Delight’s most charming manner, “that we might go on a picnic.”

“Hoo-ray!” cried Cousin Margaret, making Mr. Darling turn a splendid handspring across the little parlor.

“Why, John, I am ashamed of you,” said Betsey, sternly, for his wife, and trying in vain to stop laughing.

“I brought my camera that has legs,” said Mr. Darling, “and I’ll take your pictures.”

“We haven’t really a camera with legs, have we?” whispered Betsey.

“Down in my trunk,” said Cousin Margaret. “You begin to dress them in picnic clothes, and I’ll get it. I meant to save it until I went home, but I know you’d rather have it now.” She struggled to her feet, and left Betsey tying a soft blue ribbon around Mrs. Delight’s fluffy head. The camera proved to be a fascinating tin one, with a front part that pulled in and out beautifully.

“Let’s hurry. I’m hungry already!” said Cousin Margaret, piling everything into the little touring-car,—basket, dog, Dinah, and shawls, helter-skelter. The car whizzed around the room a few times, and stopped with a jolt at the picnic grounds.

“Spread the shawl on the ground about here,” directed Mrs. Delight, pointing with the tip of her slipper to a little clearing. “Strew the cushions around, and—”

“Open up the lunch!” interrupted Mr. Darling, setting up his camera. “I don’t want to take my picture until the eating begins, and the sun is about right now.”

“His old picture is just an excuse to eat”, remarked Mrs. Darling.

“Better give de ole dog sump’in to eat. Den he won’t be boddering so much,” said Dinah.

“Well, let me see,—he’s had twelve cookies,” reflected Mrs. Delight. “Give him three more and let him go over on that little hill to eat them.”

“Can’t he hab apple dumpling?” asked Dinah anxiously.

“Give Dumpling Delight a delightful dumpling,” sang Mr. Darling. “Now, all ready! Take up a sandwich, Mrs. D., and look pleasant!”

“Now let’s take them down to the lake,” suggested Betsey, poking the last crumb under Dumpling’s muzzle.

When they reached the big, white-tiled bathroom, they found the bathtub filled with water, a wharf across it, and a beautiful, dark green sailboat floating gracefully up and down with the waves. And the waves were so very lively that it seemed as if someone must be quite near. Betsey glanced behind the door.

“O here’s the Mr. Wind that made the waves,” she said gaily, pulling Tom down to the lake.

“Will somebody kindly notice the boat-house?” said Tom, kneeling down good-naturedly.

There was a plank across the tub, wide enough to drive the little motorcar along, and at the further end stood a tiny cardboard ticket-window. Behind the little bars, made of toothpicks, stood a paper ticket-man in a blue cap. And overhead was printed:

“Isn’t that grand?” cried Cousin Margaret. “We can afford the green sailboat as long as the Delights are millionaires.”

Tom grinned, and watched the big girl and the little girl seat the happy dolls safely in the big boat. And when it was finally untied and sailed slowly off down the lake, it looked exactly like a real boat party of sober grown-up people.

“It actually made me sort of hungry,” said Cousin Margaret at last, “to see them eat at the picnic. Let’s go down and get a gingersnap.”

Tom grinned again. “Mother said when you were through playing, to come to her upstairs piazza.”

With one accord the two girls carefully placed the picnic party safely on the wharf and skipped for the piazza. There sat Mother, in her prettiest company dress of soft white crÊpe, smiling at nobody in particular, but looking at the green wicker tea-table.

“Wow!” cried Tom. “If Dumpling were here, he’d say ‘Woof!’”

On the tea-table were pink plates of thin sandwiches, and a huge glass pitcher of strawberry-ade with real strawberries floating in it.

“I wish you would pour, Margaret,” said Mother, smiling.

So Cousin Margaret, with a sly wink at Betsey, took her place very sedately and poured the frosty glasses full, and passed the sandwiches. And she did it so very well, and with such a grown-up air, that Betsey wondered how in the world Cousin Margaret could be a little girl so easily.