The wide glass doors opening on to the balcony were standing open, and through the vines stole the golden sunset light, the chirping of robins, the smell of new-mown grass, and the heavy sweetness of the locust blooms.  Lloyd rubbed her eyes, thinking she surely must be dreaming.  There on the vine-covered balcony stood a table all set as if for a “pink party.”  There were flowers and bonbons in the silver dishes, and in the centre Mom Beck was proudly placing a mammoth birthday cake, wreathed in pink icing roses, and crowned with twelve pink candles ready for the lighting.

“Oh, mothah!” she cried.  “I—­I thought—­”

She did not finish the sentence, but something in her surprised tone, the sudden flushing of her face, and the traces of tears still in her eyes, told what she meant.

“You thought mother had forgotten,” whispered Mrs. Sherman, tenderly, as Lloyd hid her face on her shoulder.

“No, not for one minute, dear.  But the pain was so bad this morning, when you came to my room, that I couldn’t talk.  Then you were out riding so long this morning, and when I wakened after lunch and sent Mom Beck to find you, she said you were asleep in your room.  Papa Jack and I have been planning a great surprise for you, and he did not want to mention it until all the arrangements were completed.  That is why there was no birthday surprise for you at breakfast.  But you’ll soon be a very happy little girl, for this surprise is something you have been wanting for more than a year.”

How suddenly the whole world had changed for the Little Colonel!  The sunshine had never seemed so golden, the locust blooms so deliciously sweet.  Her birthday had not been forgotten, after all.  Mrs. Sherman’s chair was wheeled to the table on the balcony, and Lloyd took her seat with sparkling eyes.  She wondered what the surprise could be, and felt sure that Papa Jack would not tell her until the cake was cut, and the last birthday wish made with the blowing of the birthday candles.

He had intended to save his news to serve with the dessert, but when he questioned Lloyd as to how she had spent the day, and laughed at her for reading the old tale of Marguerite’s wonder-ball so many times, his secret escaped him before he knew it.  Turning to Mrs. Sherman he said, “By the way, Elizabeth, our birthday gift for Lloyd might be called a sort of wonder-ball.”  Then he looked at his little daughter with a teasing smile, as he continued, “I wonder if you can guess my riddle.  At first your wonder-ball will unroll a day and night on the cars, then a drive through a park where you rode in a baby-carriage once upon a time, but through which you shall go in an automobile this time, if you wish.  There’ll be some shopping, maybe, and after that flags flying, and bands playing, and crowds of people waving good-bye.”

He had intended to stop there, but the wondering expression on her face carried him on further.  “I can’t undertake to say how much your wonder-ball can hold, but somewhere near the centre of it will be a meeting with Betty and Eugenia, and perhaps a glimpse of the Gate of the Giant Scissors that you are always talking about.”