“Aw, forty,” said Tommy Tolliver, unexpectedly, “that’s awful old.  You’ll be an old maid, Judy.”

“That’s what I intend to be,” said that independent young lady.  “I am going to be an artist.”

“Oh, Judy,” said little Anne, “you know you won’t.  You will marry Prince Charming and live happy ever after, as the fairy books say, and it will be lovely.”

But Judy shrugged her shoulders, as they all laughed.

“We will see,” she said, “and anyhow I am too young to think about such things,” and at that the little grandmother nodded approval.

Tommy, having made his one contribution to the general conversation, ate steadily through the menu, accompanied by Amelia, whose sigh when the last course of ice-cream was served in little melons with candied cherries on top was expressive of great bliss.

But the crowning surprise of the dinner was the birthday cake.

Perkins brought it in on a great silver platter, and placed it in front of Judy with a flourish.

“Oh, oh, isn’t it lovely,” cried all the little girls.

“That’s great,” from Launcelot and Tommy.

“Perkins’ chef d’oeuvre,” was the Captain’s comment, and the Judge and the doctor and Mrs. Batcheller added their praises.

It really was a beautiful cake.  The icing foamed up all over it like waves, and on the very top of the sugary billows was placed a little candy sailboat, as nearly like the lost “Princess” as Perkins could procure.

“Oh, how perfectly beautiful,” said Judy.  “How did you think of it, Perkins?” and she smiled at him in a way that set his old heart a-beating.

“You’re to cut it, Miss,” he said, handing her a great silver-handled knife.  “There’s a ring in it, and a thimble and a piece of money.”

“Oh, I hope I’ll get the ring,” said little Anne, then blushed as Perkins said:  “That means you’ll get married, Miss.”

“And the one who gets the thimble will work for a living, and the one who gets the money will be rich, isn’t that it?” asked Judy, as she stuck the knife in.  “Oh, it seems a shame to cut it, Perkins.  It is so pretty.”

Launcelot found the thimble in his slice, the money—­a tiny gold dollar—­was in Nannie’s, while to Judy came the turquoise ring.

“You see you can’t escape,” said Launcelot, softly, as she turned the blue hoop on her finger.  “Fate doesn’t intend you for an artist.”

“Well, I intend to be, whether fate does or not,” she insisted.  “I guess I can do as I please.”

“Anne, you can have the thimble,” said Launcelot, rolling it across the table-cloth to her.  It was a beautiful little gold affair, and she loved to sew.

“I shouldn’t mind being an old maid and working for a living,” she said, surveying it contentedly, “if I could have Becky and Belinda to live with me.”

“I’m glad I am going to be rich,” said Nannie.  “I shall travel and have a new dress every week.”