Each of the ladies had brought some sort of dainty to the affair, even those horrendous little rolled sandwiches that are pink and green and taste like...pink and green.
Their pastries were all rolled up and pinched neatly with a dash of congratulations; however, the egg salad had a palpable smidgeon of suspicion, for none of them believed that it was going to last.
She was dressed in something itchy, since she was always too meek to tell her mother that she hated the outfit picked out; usually something turtleneck, and almost always wool which she despised.
Her little white tight donned legs were crossed respectfully, and she quietly sipped her raspberry punch whilst the ladies around her each took turns telling her how lucky she was; she was good at feigning excitement.
"Congratulations Barbara on your forthcoming marriage, would all the ladies please toast the soon to be bride!"
She shot an incredulous look at her mother before her rancorous mouth, protected with the naïveté of youth, got the best of her and spouted, "but Mom, I thought it was only your third."