There were jellies, which had been shaking, all the time the young folks were dancing in the next room, as if they were balancing to partners.

There were built-up fabrics, called Charlottes, caky externally, pulpy within; there were also marangs, and likewise custards,--some of the indolent-fluid sort, others firm, in which every stroke of the teaspoon left a smooth, conchoidal surface like the fracture of chalcedony, with here and there a little eye like what one sees in cheeses.

Nor was that most wonderful object of domestic art called trifle wanting, with its charming confusion of cream and cake and almonds and jam and jelly and wine and cinnamon and froth; nor yet the marvellous floating-island,--name suggestive of all that is romantic in the imaginations of youthful palates.
"It must have cost you a sight of work, to say nothin' of money, to get all this beautiful confectionery made for the party," said Mrs.Crane to Mrs.Sprowle.
"Well, it cost some consid'able labor, no doubt," said Mrs.Sprowle.
"Matilda and our girls and I made 'most all the cake with our own hands, and we all feel some tired; but if folks get what suits 'em, we don't begrudge the time nor the work.

But I do feel thirsty," said the poor lady, "and I think a glass of srub would do my throat good; it's dreadful dry.

Mr.Peckham, would you be so polite as to pass me a glass of srub ?" Silas Peckham bowed with great alacrity, and took from the table a small glass cup, containing a fluid reddish in hue and subacid in taste.
This was srub, a beverage in local repute, of questionable nature, but suspected of owing its tint and sharpness to some kind of syrup derived from the maroon-colored fruit of the sumac.