A Most Extraordinary Tea Party

Belinda placed her Mother’s Wedgwood china carefully across the silk dining cloth and stood back to admire the finished effect.

“This will be the tea party to surpass all tea parties, Will. We’ll show that Hilly we aren’t simple country folk. Who wants a party with a bunch of lifeless dolls?”

“I don’t know, Belinda. Mom’ll be awfully mad if something happens.”

“What are you so worried about? It’s not like we’re going to let them run wild through the house. We’ll have it all under control. Have you got your Sunday shirt on Hammond yet?”

“Just about. He sure is wiggly, Bel.”

Belinda was walking around the table, making sure that all the invited guests were settled into their place when she heard the doorbell chime. She smoothed the skirt on her best dress and graciously opened the door.

“Welcome to tea, Miss Hillary,” Her voice sounded awkward to her own ears; so formal.

“Why thank you, Miss Belinda. Here are my hat and gloves since you have no servant to take them for you.”

Belinda scowled as she tossed Hillary’s things unceremoniously in the chair beside the door.

“Please follow me to the dining room,” She said stiffly as she led her through the wide arched doorway.

“What in the world?” Hillary exclaimed.

“They are far better than your silly dolls," Belinda replied huffily.

“But they are barn animals,” she cried, her eyebrows jumping up to meet her hairline. She surveyed the large fat hen with Belinda’s mother’s best Sunday bonnet on her head, Hammond the pig with Will’s white starched shirt snug under his chin, and Glenda the Belny goat in Grandmother’s white wedding dress.

Will drew the chair out from the table, “Madame,” he signaled for Hillary to sit between the goat and the pig.

No sooner had Hillary taken her seat than the room was plunged into darkness. An awful din ensued as all chaos broke loose. The pig squealed and plunged its manure clad hooves into Hillary. She flew backwards, imitating a fire engine with her shrieks, and whacked Glenda beneath her chin.

“Meeehhh,” complained the startled goat as she leapt upon the table to escape Hillary’s flailing feet.

Belinda gasped as the sound of her mother’s china hitting the floor filled the room accompanied by the frenzied baaing of the goat. The air was filled with flying feathers and frantic clucking as the children dodge the animals.

“Oh Hilly, shush,” Will hollered from some where in the dark room.

The startled siren immediately fell silent just as the lights flickered on.

Belinda’s hands flew to her mouth, “Oh, Will, quick grab Glenda before-“

A resounding final crash broke her off as Glenda tore off into the next room dragging the ruined silk dining cloth with the remBelts of Mother’s Wedgwood behind her.

The children stood in horror staring at the mess. Hammond grunted happily as he rolled Will’s shirt blissfully in the spilled and scattered food, grinding it further into the carpet. Glenda charged past from room to room dragging the table cloth behind her, scattering china pieces as she went. The hen had wisely hidden on top of the kitchen cupboards.

“Will, hurry, we need to get the animals out. Hilly. Hilly!” Belinda shouted her name the last time, snapping Hillary out of her trance.

“You-you cretin,” Hillary screamed shaking in fury. “Just look at my dress. Look at it.”

“It just needs a little cleaning, Hilly. I’m sure it will-“

“Insipid little fool. This,” she pointed angrily at the dark splotches all over the skirt and bodice, “will not come out. This dress was sent from Paris, and now it’s ruined. RUINED.” Her dainty foot stamped upon the floor, her golden curls bobbing around her red face.

“Calm down, we’ll figure something out. Right now we need to fix this mess. Hilly, you go fetch the hen,” Will pointed to the cowering chicken.

“No way. I’m not going anywhere near those beasts.” She burst out the door and ran down the lane. Will and Belinda stared after her, listening to her cries for “MOTHER” echo across the pastures.

“There’ll be trouble once she tells her parents what happened,” Will sighed.

“What do you mean? There’s trouble now. Maybe, if we get things somewhat back to normal, Mom and Dad will go easy on us. Now, let’s get that goat.”

Belinda and Will quickly cornered Glenda, unattached the dining cloth which now resembled a worn cleaning rag, and ushered her outside. They chased the chicken out the back door with a broom and went back for Hammond.

Will surveyed the pig blissfully lying in the muck on the floor, “I don’t think we’re going to have an easy time getting him out of here.”

“You go from behind; I take him from the front.”

“I don’t know, Bel. He might charge you.”

“He’s just an ol’ fat pig. How fast can he really go anyway?”

“All right,” Will shrugged, “have it your way then.”

They got into position, Hammond eyeing them warily. Will moved quickly from behind and dove for Hammond, wrapping his arms around the pig’s wide slippery girth. Hammond squealed in alarm and, shaking Will free, plowed into Belinda’s outstretched arms. A whoosh of air escaped Belinda as the pig connected with her stomach, knocking her flat. Belinda rolled quickly out of the way, right into Hammond’s mound of muck, and watched the squealing pig race out the door, diving between her father’s massive legs.

Horror dawned on Belinda as she wiped cake from her eyes and gazed up into her father’s astonished face.