“What’s that mean?”

“Doing everything. Everyone packs in as much fun and food and drink as possible. Celebrating to excess, because everyone is in disguise and masked. There’s a saying: por trás da máscara de carnaval, tudo pode acontecer. Behind the mask of carnival, anything can happen.”

“Like what?” Little, Trudy and Kirsten asked in one voice.

Emil gave a few pointed coughs behind his fist. “Minor, what happened to the music?”

“Coming up.” Minor gave a record a spin in his fingers and laid it on the turntable. “Astrid, you know this one. Nalle, you too.”

A crunchy scratch as the needle lowered, then Carmen Miranda’s hit, “South American Way” came out of the little speaker. Minor turned it up and began to samba. Astrid got up and joined him, singing the Portuguese lyrics:

Ai, ai, ai, ai

É o canto do pregoneiro

Que com sua harmonia

Traz alegria

In South American Way

Marta ran and got two bath towels. She and Astrid wrapped them around their heads in Miranda-style turbans. Not to be outdone, Minor joined them with a towel turban and his shirt stuffed with enough socks to make an impressive bust. He put the needle at the beginning and sandwiched himself between the women. Hips swinging, fake maracas shaking, the trio belted out another verse:

Ai, ai, ai, ai

E o que traz no seu tabuleiro

Vende pra ioiô

Vende pra iaiá

In South American Way

“Souse,” Astrid said. “Souse American way.”

“Souse,” Minor repeated.

“Rounder. Sing around it, not through it. Souse.”

Minor honked and pulled at the word while Trudy and Kirsten ran to wrap up their heads and cram their arms with bangles.

“Help me, I want big bazooms, too,” Trudy said, handing Astrid some socks.

“Ah, no, there will be no bazooms,” Emil called. “Big or otherwise.”

“Spoilsport,” Marta said.

“Ingrid will strike the house with lightning and she’ll aim for you first.”

Astrid tossed the socks away. “Are we ready?”

“Take it from the top, Nycky,” Minor called. Kennet backed the needle up again and leaned cross-armed against the wall, a little envious as he watched the show. He had no desire to join, but he wished he could carry a tune like Astrid. Or play the ukulele like Nalle. Or dance a tenth as well as Minor.

Astrid was facing the mantel between verses. All at once she looked back over her shoulder at Kennet. A little wicked smile made her nose crinkle, making Kennet grin back and slide a hand under the lapel of his shirt, miming a pounding heart through the fabric. Astrid laughed, tossed her head back and sang:

No tabuleiro tem de tudo que convém

Mas só lhe falta, ai, ai berenguendéns

Ai, ai, ai, ai

É o canto do pregoneiro

Que com sua harmonia

Traz alegria

In Souse American Way

Illegal in Summertime