noon
`` Not to a picnic , '' she said . `` Mother , it is n't a picnic , I 've told you a hunderd times ! You think it 's one those ole-fashion things YOU used to go to -- sit on the damp ground and eat sardines with ants all over 'em ? This is n't anything like that ; we just go out on the trolley to this farm-house and have noon dinner , and dance all afternoon , and have supper , and then come home on the trolley . I guess we 'd hardly of got up anything as out o ' date as a picnic in honor of Miss PRATT ! '' Mrs. Baxter seemed unimpressed . `` It does n't matter whether you call it a picnic or not , Willie .