I could devour everything in this picture in ten seconds (or less). This is the agreed recipe for a fun, summer afternoon. Only that crazy bitch, Terry, has an extensive collection of deviled egg plates; yes, deviled egg plates. Some people collect Fiesta ware, some--like myself--fine British and French china, but Terry collects deviled egg plates. Leopoldo turns his nose up on deviled eggs, as does Bob, but Terry and I scarf them down by the dozen as long as there is a bottle of vodka to chase them. Speaking of vodka, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish has convened a sort of social inquisition for tomorrow; I fear for Baroness Seitzinger's life. In addition, I will not have my consort with me, so I have enlisted the care of a well-known chaperon to make sure my eyes don't stray as Mamie brings down the axe on the poor baroness in a familiar story: Old Money vs. New Money, or How Does Old Money Find The Money To Battle New.