AN OUTDOOR FAN LUNCHEON
ANYTHING more dainty or artistic can scarcely be imagined than an outdoor luncheon re-cently given by a girl whose home is surrounded by "ancestral acres" of truly English proportions.
Eight young girls were invited to come attired in as sylvan a style as their wardrobes permitted, and, as American girls are not slow to adopt such an idea, eight charming young shepherdesses appeared—some looking like June roses in pink muslin gowns, soft white fichus, and flower-bedecked leghorn hats.
By a "special providence," the day was fine—a real June day when "then if ever come perfect days,11 as Lowell sang in praise of that queen of the year.
Had it rained, the luncheon was to have been served on the piazza—broad and vine-screened, and "the whole thing a failure !" as the young hostess cheerfully prophesied.
The table was laid under a spreading beech-tree, where a view could be had over miles of softly undulating country. The shape of the table was that of a folding fan— not fully opened—the point of which, near the trunk of the tree, was adorned with a large bow of pink satin ribbon, from which radiated other pink ribbons about