Tea at China Court was a ritual: "an absurd anachronism," Bella said often. "But a delightful one," said Tom. Cecily had carried in the silver tray and lit the spirit-lamp under the kettle. The table now had a lace-edged embroidered cloth and on it was the pink tea set the third Grace had envied, with its shallow cups, its cream jug, a bowl for rinsing the cups, and its matching gold and pink enamelled spoons.Two tea pots stood ready and warmed; the cups had to be warmed too for, "If the tea touches anything cold it loses the aroma." Mrs. Quin impresses Tracy with that. "Only vandals," says Mrs. Quin, "put in the milk first." The caddy had two compartments, for China and Indian tea; its small silver scoop was dented where the little boy Stace, in a temper, throws it on the floor and deliberately stamps on it. The sugar-tongs were Georgian and shaped like scissors; there were small plates with silver knives and small, lace-edged napkins. "And the food! What food! What work!" Bella groaned, though Tom's and Dick's and Harry's and, yes, her own Walter's, eyes glistened. "We have a cup of tea with a biscuit at home," said Walter yearningly. Now Cecily brought in saffron cake, buttered scones hot in a silverdish, brown bread and butter cut thin as wafers, quince jelly and strawberry jam from the China Court quinces and strawberries; she had made shortbread, fruitcake, and, because Tracy likes them as a child, jumbles, thin rolled ginger snaps filled with cream.Of course in the days when Mrs. Quin is alone there is not all this food, but all the same, "What work!" said Bella and from the first afternoon she had declared, "Nowhere, nowhere in the world, except in England, does this slavery persist."