She never remembered a word of the ceremony.
Rilla, who in spite of Jims, had been trying her best to look rapt and romantic, as beseemed a war bridesmaid, gave up the hopeless attempt, and devoted her energies to choking down untimely merriment.

She dared not look at anybody in the room, especially Mrs.Dead Angus, for fear all her suppressed mirth should suddenly explode in a most un-young-ladylike yell of laughter.
But married they were, and then they had a wedding-supper in the dining-room which was so lavish and bountiful that you would have thought it was the product of a month's labour.

Everybody had brought something.

Mrs.Dead Angus had brought a large apple-pie, which she placed on a chair in the dining-room and then absently sat down on it.
Neither her temper nor her black silk wedding garment was improved thereby, but the pie was never missed at the gay bridal feast.

Mrs.
Dead Angus eventually took it home with her again.
Whiskers-on-the-moon's pacifist pig should not get it, anyhow.
That evening Mr.and Mrs.Joe, accompanied by the recovered Sir Wilfrid, departed for the Four Winds Lighthouse, which was kept by Joe's uncle and in which they meant to spend their brief honeymoon.