The night before the fair, the children worked even harder than the night before Halloween, for there were so many things to display.  It was evident that the stock would overflow windows and shelves and show cases.

“We’ll bring the long kitchen table in for your things, Arthur,” Maida decided after a perplexed consideration of the subject.  “Dicky’s and Rosie’s things ought to go on the shelves and into the show cases where nobody can handle them.”

They tugged the table into the shop and covered it with a beautiful old blue counter-pane.

“That’s fine!” Arthur approved, unpacking his handicraft from the bushel-baskets in which he brought them.

The others stood round admiring the treasures and helping him to arrange them prettily.  A fleet of graceful little boats occupied one end of the table, piles of bread-boards, rolling-pins and “cats,” the other.  In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny baskets, carved from peach-stones.  From the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks.

Having arranged all Arthur’s things, the quartette filed upstairs to the closet where Dicky’s paper-work was kept.

“Gracious, I didn’t realize there were so many,” Rosie said.

“Sure, the lad has worked day and night,” Granny said, patting Dicky’s thin cheek.

They filled Arthur’s baskets and trooped back to the shop.  They lined show case and shelves with the glittering things—­boxes, big and little, gorgeously ornamented with stars and moons, caps of gold and silver, flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful to sail on anything but fairy seas, miniature jackets and trousers that only a circus rider would wear.

“Dicky, I never did see anything look so lovely,” Maida said, shaking her hands with delight.  “I really didn’t realize how pretty they were.”

Dicky’s big eyes glowed with satisfaction.  “Nor me neither,” he confessed.

“And now,” Maida said, bubbling over with suppressed importance, “Rosie’s candies—­I’ve saved that until the last.”  She pulled out one of the drawers under the show case and lifted it on to the counter.  It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, prettily decorated with flower patterns on the outside, with fringes of lace paper on the inside.  “I ordered these boxes for you, Rosie,” she explained.  “I knew your candy would sell better if it was put up nicely.  I thought the little ones could be five-cent size, the middle-sized ones ten-cent size, and the big ones twenty-five cent size.”

Rosie was dancing up and down with delight.  “They’re just lovely, Maida, and how sweet you were to think of it.  But it was just like you.”

“Now we must pack them,” Maida said.

Four pairs of hands made light work of this.  By nine o’clock all the boxes were filled and spread out temptingly in the show case.  By a quarter past nine, three of the W.M.N.T.’s were in bed trying hard to get to sleep.  But Maida stayed up.  The boxes were not her only surprise.