As to ordering them now--Billy glanced at the clock and shook her head.
"It's almost five, already, and they'd never get here in time," she sighed regretfully.

"I'll have to have something else." Billy looked now, not for what she wanted, but for what she could find.
And she found: some cold roast lamb, at which she turned up her nose; an uncooked beefsteak, which she appropriated doubtfully; a raw turnip and a head of lettuce, which she hailed with glee; and some beets, potatoes, onions, and grapefruit, from all of which she took a generous supply.
Thus laden she went back to the kitchen.
Spread upon the table they made a brave show.
"Oh, well, I'll have quite a dinner, after all," she triumphed, cocking her head happily.

"And now for the dessert," she finished, pouncing on the cookbook.
It was while she was turning the leaves to find the pies and puddings that she ran across the vegetables and found the word "beets" staring her in the face.

Mechanically she read the line below.
"Winter beets will require three hours to cook.

Use hot water." Billy's startled eyes sought the clock.
Three hours--and it was five, now! Frenziedly, then, she ran her finger down the page.
"Onions, one and one-half hours.