And now, my weary peddlers, let me tell you what you have still before you! A number of young people, mostly retired peddlers, are coming here to luncheon with you.

But we won't call it luncheon, because that sounds so prosaic.
We'll call it,--what shall we call it ?" "A festival feast," said Kitty.

"That sounds gay and jolly." "So it does," agreed Cousin Jack, "A May Day Festival Feast for the Maynards, and nothing could be pleasanter nor that!" And even before Cousin Jack finished speaking, the young guests began to arrive, and Marjorie realized that it was a party her kind cousins had made for them.
There were about twenty guests all together, and as they wore the pretty costumes they had worn as peddlers, it was a picturesque group.
"Ho, for the Festival Feast!" exclaimed Cousin Jack, and taking Marjorie and Kitty by either hand he went dancing with them across the lawn.
Under a clump of trees they discovered that a table had been set, though it had not been visible from the house.
The table was like a vision of Fairyland, and Marjorie thought she had never before seen such a pretty one.
The decorations were of pink, and in the middle of the table was a wicker pushcart of fairly good size, filled with parcels wrapped in pink tissue paper.

From each parcel a long end of ribbon led to the plate of each little guest.

Also at each place was a much smaller pushcart of gilded wicker-work tied with pink bows, and filled with candies.
Pink sweet peas and ferns were scattered over the white tablecloth, and across the table ran a broad pink satin ribbon which bore in gold letters the legend, "May for the Maynards, the Maynards for May!" "What a beautiful table!" cried Marjorie, as the lovely sight greeted her eyes.
"What beautiful guests!" cried Cousin Jack, as he looked at the smiling, happy crowd of children.