Beezus and Ramona - Beverly Cleary [22]
“You wanted a party,” Mother reminded her. “If your guests want to play parade, you’d better join them.”
Ramona scowled, but she took a flag and joined the parade rather than be left out entirely at her own party.
“Playing parade was a wonderful idea.” Mother smiled at Beezus. “I hope it lasts.”
“So do I,” Beezus agreed.
“Bingle-bongle-by,” yelled the flag wavers.
Howie led the parade, including a sulky Ramona, out of the living room, down the hall, through the kitchen and dining room, and back into the living room again. Willa Jean toddled along at the end of the procession. Beezus was afraid the parade might break up, but all the children appeared delighted with the game. Into the bedroom they marched and out again. Beezus opened the basement door. Down the steps Howie led the parade. Willa Jean had to go down the steps backwards on her hands and knees. Three times around the furnace marched the parade and up the steps again before Willa Jean was halfway down.
Beezus opened the door to the attic. Up the steps marched the parade. Stamp, stamp, stamp went their feet overhead. Stamp, stamp, stamp.
Beezus remembered something Ramona had enjoyed when she was still in diapers. She lugged Willa Jean up the basement steps, sat her in the middle of the kitchen floor, and handed her the egg beater. “There. Don’t step on her,” she said to her mother.
“Thank goodness,” sighed Mother.
“Maybe they’ll play parade long enough for us to fix something for them to eat.”
“What’ll we give them?” Beezus asked.
Mother laughed. “This is a wonderful chance to get rid of all that applesauce. Let’s hurry and get it ready before they get tired of their game. Get the colored paper napkins out of the cupboard and—oh, dear, what shall we do for chairs?”
“They can sit on the floor,” suggested Beezus, looking through the cupboard for napkins.
“I guess they’ll have to.” Mother took the applesauce out of the refrigerator. “If we put a couple of sheets down for them to sit on, maybe they won’t get applesauce on the rug.”
The parade tramped down the attic stairs and through the kitchen. “But Mother,” said Beezus, when the drum and horns had disappeared into the basement again, “the only napkins I can find are for St. Valentine’s Day and Halloween. They won’t do.”
“They’ll have to do,” said Mother.
Beezus spread two sheets in the middle of the living-room floor. Then she went into the kitchen to help Mother, who was tearing open three boxes of fig Newtons. “It’s a good thing I bought these at that sale last week,” she remarked.
“Are we going to give them lemonade or anything to drink?” Beezus asked.
“Not on my living-room rug.” Mother rapidly spooned applesauce into dishes.
“Applesauce and fig Newtons are bad enough.”
“Maybe if we feed them right away some of them will think the party is over and go home.” Beezus piled fig Newtons on two plates.
“I hope so. This many small children in the house on a rainy day is too much.” The parade stamped across the attic floor again, and Mother had to raise her voice to make herself heard. “It sounds as if they were coming through the ceiling.”
“Let’s catch them the next time they come through the kitchen and hand out the applesauce,” Beezus shouted back. “Then maybe we can get them to march into the living room.”
It was not long before Howie led the parade into the kitchen again. He stopped so suddenly that the children bumped into one another. “When do we eat?” he demanded.
“Now.” Beezus thrust a dish of applesauce and a spoon into his hands.
“I want some,” cried the others.
Mother handed a second child some applesauce. “Forward march!” she ordered.
Beezus led Howie into the living room, and the rest of the parade followed with their applesauce. “You sit there,” she said to Howie, pointing to a place on the sheet. She was relieved to see the others seat themselves around the edge of the sheet. Quickly she handed around paper napkins.
“I want one with witches on it,” demanded a boy who had a Valentine napkin.
“I want one with hearts on it,” wailed a girl who had a Halloween