Mary might have learned a more ladylike trade, but one thing is certain: she had a shining faith in that space guy from Earth. Now, about that cake she baked ...
he doesn't come to eat it," June said. "I don't want to sound like Anne, but there was a lot of sense in what she said."
"It's just like a real wedding cake." She hummed the snatch of Martian tune. "Like in the tele-papers." She laughed with her eyes. "The bridegroom takes the silver knife and cuts two large pieces of the cake while the bride, dressed in filament coral, stands at his right hand. She carries a bouquet of--Anne just likes to be mean!"
June frowned. Mary crossed to the dressing table. She studied her face in the mirror. It was heart shaped, elfin; her purple hair was a riot of curls, and her eyes were amethyst and gold. She smiled at herself. "I want to look as pretty as I can tonight." She twisted around. "You don't think he'll come either, do you?"
Mary looked back at the mirror. "He likes our canal blossom perfume." She dabbed some of it on her ear lobes. "I like it best, too."
June stood up, crossed to the musikon, found a slow five-toned wal