As Elizabeth approached, she heard Rita Crumm’s strident tones above the clamor of music from the inept band.

“How can it be bloody missing, you twit? I saw it myself not half an hour ago.”

“I don’t know.” Marge’s whine was no less audible and Elizabeth put on a spurt.

“What on earth is going on here?” she demanded, in the most commanding voice she could muster.

Florrie uttered a little shriek and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Rita gave the startled woman a scathing glance, then turned to Elizabeth. “There is no need to concern yourself, your ladyship,” she announced haughtily. “I have everything quite under control.”

Nellie’s laugh was blatantly derisive.

Rita quelled her with one of her vicious scowls.

“I would like to know what is causing this dispute,” Elizabeth persisted. She glanced back at the table, where the bridal couple was now poised in front of the cake, looking somewhat confused. “As you can see, Wally and Priscilla are about to cut the cake.”

Joan moaned, while Florrie muttered nervously, “Oh, dear me.”

“That’s the point, your ladyship,” Nellie said, with a defiant look at Rita’s enraged face. “The knife is missing, isn’t it.”

Elizabeth stared at her in confusion. “You mean the knife to cut the cake?”

Nellie nodded, while Joan moaned again.

“Well, then, get another knife. There must be others in the kitchen.”

“Lady Elizabeth, you don’t understand.” Rita stepped forward, her face a stony mask of annoyance. “This is a very special knife. Solid silver, mother-of-pearl handle, embedded with three diamonds. It was handed down by generations of my family, for the sole purpose of slicing a wedding cake. I agreed to lend it to Priscilla for the occasion. Apart from its value, it’s the only knife we have with a blade long enough to do the job properly.”

“Bessie’s got a bread knife in there,” Nellie said helpfully. “I used it to slice the pork pie.”