Then came the presentation of the gifts.  What a wealth of them there was—­and how different they were in value.  In those days it was just as it is now—­there were many people who had great wealth, and they brought gifts which were generous in proportion to their wealth.

One brought a handful of pearls, another a number of carved ivories.  There were beautiful laces and silks and embroideries, all in pure white, and even splendid white chargers were brought to his majesty.

But many of the people were poor—­some of them very poor—­and their gifts were quite different from those I have been telling about.  Some of the women brought handfuls of white rice, some of the boys brought their favorite white pigeons, and one dear little girl smilingly gave him a pure white rose.

It was wonderful to watch the King as each one came and kneeled before him as he presented his gift.  He never seemed to notice whether the gift was great or small; he regarded not one gift above another so long as all were white.  Never had the King been so happy as he was that day and never had such real joy filled the hearts of the people.  They decided to use the same plan every year, and so it came to pass that year after year on the King’s birthday the people came from here and there and everywhere and brought their white gifts—­the gifts which showed that their love was pure, strong, true and without stain, and year after year the King sat in his white robes on the white throne in the great white room and it was always the same—­he regarded not one gift above another so long as all were white.

HER BIRTHDAY DREAM[*]

By Nellie C. King

Marcia Brownlow came out of the church, and walked rapidly down the street.  She seemed perturbed; her gray eyes flashed, and on her cheeks glowed two red spots.  She was glad she was not going home, so she wouldn’t have to take a car, but could walk the short distance to Aunt Sophy’s, where she had been invited to dine and visit with her special chum, Cousin Jack—­who was home from college for the short Thanksgiving vacation.  She slowed up as she reached her destination, and waited a little before going in—­she wanted to get calmed down a bit, for she didn’t want her friend to see her when she felt so “riled up.”  Back of it was a secret reluctance to meet Jack—­he was so different since the Gipsy Smith revival; of course, he was perfectly lovely, and unchanged toward her, but—­somehow, she felt uncomfortable in his presence—­and she didn’t enjoy having her self-satisfaction disturbed.

As she entered the dining-room, she was greeted with exclamations of surprise and pleasure.

“Why, Marcia!” said Aunt Sophia; “we had given you up!  I almost never knew of your being late in keeping an appointment.”

“You must excuse me, Auntie; and lay this offense to the charge of our Sunday school superintendent,” answered Marcia.