“I know it will be lovely,” said Hester, with a sigh.  “You are the luckiest girl I ever saw, Marjorie.  You always have all the good times.”

“Why, Hester, don’t you have good times, too?”

“Not like you do.  Your mother and father, and those Bryants just do things for you all the time.  I don’t think it’s fair!”

“Well, your mother does things for you,—­all mothers do,” said Tom Craig.

“Not as much as Marjorie’s.  My mother said so.  She said she never saw anything like the way Marjorie Maynard is petted.  And it makes her stuck up and spoiled!”

“Did your mother say my sister was stuck-up and spoiled?” demanded King, flaring up instantly.

“Well,—­she didn’t say just that,—­but she is, all the same!” And Hester scowled crossly at Midget.

“Why, Hester Corey, I am not!” declared Marjorie.  “What do I do that’s stuck-up?”

“Oh, you think yourself so smart,—­and you always want to boss everything.”

“Maybe I am too bossy,” said Marjorie, ruefully, for she knew that she loved to choose and direct their games.

“Yes, you are! and I’m not going to stand it!”

“All right, Hester Corey, you can get out of this club, then,” said Tom, glaring at her angrily; “Marjorie Maynard is Queen, anyway, and if she hasn’t got a right to boss, who has?”

“Well, she’s been Queen long enough.  Somebody else ought to have a chance.”

“Huh!” spoke up Dick; “a nice queen you’d make, wouldn’t you?  I s’pose that’s what you want!  You’re a bad girl, Hester Corey!”

“I am not, neither!”

“You are, too!”

“Jiminy Crickets!” exclaimed King; “can’t this Club get along without scrapping?  If not, the Club’d better break up.  I’m ashamed of you, Dick, to hear you talk like that!”

“Hester began it,” said Dick, sullenly.

“Oh, yes; blame it all on Hester!” cried that angry maiden, herself; “blame everything on Hester, and nothing on Marjorie.  Dear, sweet, angel Marjorie!”

“Now, Hester Corey, you stop talking about my sister like that, or I’ll get mad,” stormed King.  “She’s Queen of this Club, and she’s got a right to boss.  And you needn’t get mad about it, either.”

“You can be Queen, if you want to, Hester,” said Midget, slowly.  “I guess I am a pig to be Queen all the time.”

“No, you’re not!” shouted Tom.  “If Hester’s Queen, I resign myself from this Club!  So there, now!”

“Go on, and resign!” said Hester; “nobody cares.  I’m going to be Queen, Marjorie said I could.  Give me your crown, Marjorie.”

Midget didn’t want to give up her crown a bit, but she had a strong sense of justice, and it did seem that Hester ought to have her turn at being Queen.  So she began to lift the crown from her head, when King interposed: 

“Don’t you do it, Midget!  We can’t change Queens in a minute, like that!  If we do change, it’s got to be by election and nomination and things like that.”