Several days before a large reception my cooks would begin to turn out piles upon piles of small pastries and to do all the things that could be done in advance. Then on the day of the reception, with plenty of extra assistants, it was found easily possible to prepare all the salads and sandwiches, the ices and sweets, the lemonades and the punches that were necessary. Nor did we find that it interfered in the least with the usual household routine. We took our meals in the small family dining room adjoining the State Dining Room, and even gave small and successful dinner parties while the State Dining Room was in the hands of the carpenters and decorators.

Referring to the serving of refreshments reminds me of an incident which gave us some uneasiness shortly after Mr. Taft’s election. It was during that phase of his career which all Presidents pass through, when his most casual remark was likely to be construed into an “utterance,” and his most ordinary act was likely to become a widely heralded “example.” It was while he was still being held up as a model of all the excellencies⁠—framed in a question mark: “What will he do?” In other words it was before his Inauguration.