"Sit down an' I'll show you how." He sat down obediently, but not before he had picked up an old tin can from nearby and set it carefully between them.
"This rock is our table--the moss is the table cloth.

Oh, it isn't green," she cried as he looked down in serious doubt.

"You must _help_ me make believe.

Now--doesn't it look nice and white ?" "It does, indeed.

I can see nothing but snowy linen of the finest texture," he responded instantly.
"That's better," complimented his hostess.