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She looked down at the sack and then up at Freddie, ignoring the vicar. “Do you not wish to help decide what we do?”

He shrugged. “Why do you not purchase two of every ticket? We will have a grand day of it.”

Her brow puckered. “Do you wish to spend so much?”

How long would it be before she stopped worrying about such things? “It’s for a good cause, is it not?” he asked.

“Very well,” she said as she moved into line next to his sisters. The vicar, thankfully, moved on to harass other visitors to the fete.

As his father rarely attended fetes, he’d stayed behind at Bellthorne. Thank the Heavens! Perhaps they could enjoy the afternoon without him scowling at them all—or perhaps it was just at him and Pippy.

While he did not attend, his father supported such events. Indeed, they’d often had a similar event in Kew Stokes. Thus he’d sent his sisters with a purse full of coins which they were spending with great abandon.

Pippy turned from the table, a handful of tickets clenched in her fist. “Perhaps next time you intend to use me as an excuse, you could give me proper notice. I’m certain I could have looked far more dire had I known of my illness in advance.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes and shoved the tickets into her reticule.

“Duly noted, my dear,” he said contritely.

They stood back, waiting as Evie and Ari finished making their selections.

“In my defense, Lady Pip, I’d been watching for the vicar so we might bypass him altogether. How was I to know he lay in wait?” He clasped his hands behind his back. “However, you did tolerably well. Indeed, you handled Mr. Tomlinson with aplomb!”

She smiled. “It was not a complete bouncer. I was very sleepy this morning. Perhaps it was all the furmity and plum pudding.” She put a hand to her middle. “I’m still feeling the effects of it.”

He held out his arm to her. “Do we need to return to Bellthorne?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’d not miss this for anything.”

“What shall we do first?” Evie asked as she and Ari came up beside them.

“I wish to do the ring toss,” Ari said. “I overheard Mrs. Latimer say there are some lovely ribbons as prizes.” She held up a stack of tickets. “I plan to win every color.”

Freddie patted his head. “How fortunate! I’m in need of new ribbons.” The girls merely shook their heads at him. He held his hand out in front of him. “Then let us be off.”

They all moved toward the ring toss, where Ari placed her ticket on the counter. The man exchanged it for three tin rings. “You need only land one to earn a prize.”

Ari gave him a confident smile. “And what if I land all three?”

“Each additional ring earns a greater prize.”

She looked over her shoulder at her siblings. “I believe the first color I shall pick is pink.”

“Perhaps you should not count your ribbons before they are won, Arabella,” Freddie said.

She shrugged off his words. “I play this at every fete. I’m quite proficient.” She turned and faced forward, tossing the ring with a flick of her wrist. It sailed toward the horns nailed to a log, hit the side of one, and bounced to the ground.

Ari let out a cry. “It missed!”

Pippy put a hand to her lips, surely trying to hold back a laugh for Ari’s sake. But Freddie showed no such reserve and released a deep chuckle. “Overconfidence is the devil’s snare, Ari.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I still have two more rings. I shall surely win something.” She threw the ring, but this time it sailed over the top of the horns, nearly landing in the booth selling roasted chestnuts.

She stomped her foot. “There must be something wrong with these rings. I always land them in Kew Stokes.” She studied the last ring in her hand.

“But those rings are vines covered in leather strips. I’m certain their weight is different from these tin rings,” Evie said.

“I’m taking that into account.” Ari glared at the horn on the log.

Pippy motioned over to the next booth. “Would you like some gingerbread?”