“It sure was!” declared King, who was sitting on a footstool near, and hugging one knee with apparently intense affection.

“And what made it so especially delightful?” asked Mr. Maynard, as he balanced Rosy Posy on his knee; “you tell me, Baby.”

“It was a bootiful party,” said Rosy Posy, with decision, “because we had pink ice cream.”

“That was about the best part,” said Kitty, reminiscently.

“Well, the pink ice cream part sounds delightful, I’m sure; but what was the rest of the party about?”

“Oh, it was a May party,” exclaimed Marjorie, “and we had May Queens, and a May King, and May Princesses, and everything!  I do love May, don’t you, Father?  Everything is so bright and bloomy and Maysy.  I think it is the loveliest month in the year.”

“Yes, it is a lovely month, Mopsy, and a good month to be out of doors.  Maytime is playtime.”

“Yes, I know it; I made a song this morning about that.  I’ll sing it to you.”  And Marjorie sang for her father the little verse she had mad about Marjorie Maynard’s May.

“Huh!” said King, “’tisn’t your May, any more than anybody else’s, Midget Maynard.”

“No, I know it; but I like to think the May just belongs to us Maynards.  Anyway we have it all.  It is our May even if other people use it, too.”

“I don’t begrudge them the use of it,” said Kitty; “of course, it’s just as much theirs as ours.”

“Yes, of course,” assented Marjorie; “I’m only just sort of imagining, you know.”

“Let me help you imagine.  Midget,” said her father.  “How would you like to imagine a whole May time that was all playtime?”

“For all of us?” rejoined Marjorie, her eyes dancing.  “Oh, that would be a lovely imagination!  It would be like an Ourday all the time!  And by the way, Father, you owe us an extra Ourday.  You know we skipped one when you and Mother were down South, and it’s time for another anyway.  Shall we have two together?”

“Two together!” cried King; “what fun that would be!  We could go off on a trip or something.”

“Where could we stay all night?” asked Kitty, who was the practical one.

“Oh, trips always have places to stay all night,” declared King; “let’s do it, Father.  What do you say?”

“I don’t get a chance to say much of anything, among all you chatter-boxes.  Rosy Posy, what do you say?”

But the littlest Maynard was so nearly asleep that she had no voice in the matter under consideration, and at her father’s suggestion, Nurse Nannie came and took her away to bed.

“Now,” said Mr. Maynard, “what’s all this about Ourday?  And two of them together!  When do you think I’m going to get my business done?”

“Well, but, Father, you owe them to us,” said Marjorie, patting his cheek in her wheedlesome way.  “And you’re not the kind of a business man who doesn’t pay his debts, are you?”