[piosenniel]

Not by chance had the children’s table been placed at some distance from the adults. Pio watched as Fosco let fly the pudding that hit his sister squarely in the face. And followed with some amusement as Prisca began to howl. It was evident to her what Fosco meant to do, and she wondered that Prisca did not take any action.

Pio put two fingers to her mouth and whistled sharply drawing the startled attention of the children. ‘Surely, Prisca,’ she said quite calmly as the little girl’s eyes fixed on hers, ‘you do not mean to sit there and howl, doing nothing while Fosco plans to rub your hair with pudding.’ Fosco smirked at his twin, knowing she was an easy victim.

‘Come here. And bring your plate of pudding with you.’ Pio motioned for Prisca to come sit with her. Fosco grinned thinking he had gotten his prissy little sister in trouble somehow. Pio sat the little girl on her lap and helped her gather up a large mound of pudding on her spoon. ‘Best to cry less and stop the problem at its source.’ She drew back the spoon in Prisca’s hands and helped her take aim. The gooey missile flew swiftly back toward Fosco, hitting him square in the forehead. His mouth flew open and he let out a surprised squawk. Only to have another blob from his brother Madoc hit him in the side of the head.

Madoc and Prisca were giggling loudly by then. Young Merry and Pippin, at first astounded at the flying pudding, began to giggle, too. Pippin flung a spoonful of pudding at Rosie, who being of tougher stuff than Prisca retaliated immediately, and with a whoop of triumph shot off two perfect hits at her younger brothers. And even Hamfast joined in, his pudgy little hands flinging handfuls of the sticky substance into the air.

Elanor and Frodo-lad looked aghast at the antics of their siblings, and would have put a firm end to it, save for the fact that Pio had by that time joined in the fun. ‘Come, girls!’ she cried, in a laughing voice, as Rosie and Prisca ran to her side. ‘I think we can take them.’ Shot after shot of pudding flew down the table at Fosco, Madoc, Merry, and Pippin. Quite by chance, Frodo-lad was hit with an errant missile, and Elanor made the mistake of laughing with glee as the sticky mess ran down his cheek, heading for his collar. Quietly and calmly he launched his own load of pudding at her, splattering it in a lovely starburst pattern on the front of her party dress.

The Great Pudding War had begun!