“It’s your duty, Sara,” said the Echo.

“Oh, dear, it’s putting off the presents!” sighed one of the oldest of Avrillia’s children; then, as she looked at the poor little gentle, bedraggled Teacup, with her consanguineous handle, she felt ashamed of herself, and hid behind her mother’s drapery.

As for Sara, she was indeed in distress.  “If some of you would only think of something to make me frown—­I can’t even think of any disagreeable things today!”

“You’re frowning now!” suddenly cried the First Gunkus, waving his shoe; and they all forgave him his lack of respectfulness, because he was plainly so excited.

“Hold her up, Schlorge!” cried Pirlaps, running forward.  “There—­Sara—­hold that expression—­just a moment.  Fix your eyes here—­on this leaf!  And keep your mind firmly on this thought:  ’The Disagreeable Necessity of Frowning in the Presence of Presents.’”

Sara remembered how brave and useful she had been the day before, and concentrated her mind by a really tremendous effort.  And she was soon rewarded; for in a few minutes everybody was clapping hands and waving handkerchiefs and crying, “She’s dry!  She’s dry!  Three cheers for Sara!”

Sure enough, the little Teacup was dry enough to flutter back to her perch, on which she sat throwing kisses to Sara.  And then Pirlaps came forward, and taking Sara by the hand, said, “Come, Sara.”

He then began leading her in a sort of triumphal march around the pool, while the rest fell in behind them and formed a procession.  As there were so many of the Gunki and Avrillia’s children it was quite a long procession, so that the only way they could tell the head from the tail of it was by remembering that Sara was the head and that the Snimmy’s wife was the tail.  The Echo, who could not leave the pool to march, spread out the lyre-shaped feathers on the top of her head and played the most beautiful rippling chords for them to march by.

And suddenly, when they had gone three times around the fountain, Pirlaps said, “Take the seat of honor, Sara, and receive our gifts.”  And there, in front of the Gugollaph-tree, was an enormous frosted cake, as big around as a wagon-wheel.  Sara was sure it had not been there when the march began.  She would have rubbed her eyes, had she not felt that such a conventional proceeding would be wholly inadequate.

“Take your seat, Sara,” said Pirlaps kindly, enjoying her delight and astonishment.

Sara came to herself with a start.  “Wh-where?” she asked.  She was anxious not to appear awkward, but she did not see any particular place to sit.

“On the cake, dear, of course,” said Pirlaps, who seemed never to tire of smiling at her odd little questions.

Sara had never done this before, but she was willing to try; and she was just about to climb upon the cake when another thought deterred her.

“But the candles?  Won’t my dress catch?”