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The general color-scheme was pink—pink roses, pink ribbons, pink candles in profusion. A large pink silk parasol, filled with flowers, hung by streamers from the ceiling, and from each of its points a ribbon, tied to a place-card and a bouquet, fluttered to a plate at the table. The “shower,” too, was literally coming down from the sky, for the packages which had been received ahead of time by Mrs. Andrews, were wrapped in tissue paper and suspended by ribbon from the ceiling to a height a little above the parasol in the center.

“It’s gorgeous!” cried Marjorie, in ecstasy. “The very prettiest thing I’ve ever seen! Doris will remember it for the rest of her life.”

“I’m glad you like it,” smiled Mrs. Andrews. “Is there anything you could suggest?”

“No, it’s perfect as it is!” replied Marjorie. “I sort of feel as if we oughtn’t to disturb it by eating luncheon here.”

“Yes, suppose we eat in the kitchen,” suggested Lily. “And just come in here to admire the table!”

“Now Lil, don’t get sarcastic! Tell me, does Doris have the slightest idea?”