“You’re so practical, Kitty, it’s difficult to make you understand; but I feel quite sure we’ll all make a pet of it, and when you once hear it purr, you’ll think it a prettier sound than any kitten ever made.”

“Is it really an automobile, Father?  And have you bought it?  And shall we ride in it?  Where is it?  Where are you going to keep it?  When will it come?  How many will it hold?  Where shall we ride first?”

These queries were flung at Mr. Maynard by the breathless children without waiting for answers, and as Mrs. Maynard came in just then, Mr. Maynard told the story of his new acquisition.

“I’ve been looking at them for some time, as you know, Helen,” he said, looking at his wife, “and to-day I decided upon the purchase.  It’s a big touring car, and will comfortably accommodate the whole Maynard family and a chauffeur beside.  It will arrive day after to-morrow, that’s Monday, and after a few short spins around this neighborhood, I think by Thursday we may be able to start for an Ourday trip in it.”

“A whole Ourday in an automobile!” cried Marjorie; “how gorgeous and grand!  Oh, King, isn’t it just splendiferous!”

Marjorie sprang to her feet, and grasped her brother round the neck, and they flew round the room in a sort of a wild Indian war-dance that went far to express their joy and delight at the prospect.

“Two Ourdays, you know, Father,” said Kitty, nestling quietly to her father’s side as her madcap brother and sister whirled round the room.  But they brought up with a round turn, though a little dishevelled-looking, to hear Mr. Maynard’s reply to Kitty’s remark.

“Yes, two Ourdays at once!” Marjorie cried, affectionately pulling King’s hair as she spoke.  He returned the caress by pinching her ear, and said, “Will it be two Ourdays together, Father, or one at a time?”

“If you two young tornadoes will sit down quietly for a moment, you may hear of something to your advantage,” said Mr. Maynard, smiling at his two eldest children who were rather red-faced and breathless from their recent exertions.

“Sure we will!” cried King, and drawing Marjorie down with him, they fell in a heap on the floor, and sat there awaiting further disclosures.

“You see,” Mr. Maynard began, “as Marjorie says, Maytime is,—­what?”

“Playtime,” supplemented Marjorie, quickly.

“Well, then, if Maytime is playtime for the Maynards, why shouldn’t we play all through the month of May?”

“Play every day,
All the month of May,
All the Maynards may
Play all day! 
Hooray!  Hooray!  Hooray!”

sang Marjorie who often improvised her songs as she went along.  This was not a difficult one to learn, and King and Kitty took up the refrain, and they sang it over and over with great gusto, until Mrs. Maynard begged for a respite.

“But of course you don’t mean anything like that?” said Kitty, when the song had ceased.