“Kitty sent that,” answered her mother, smiling, “and she wrote me that she made it herself.”

But at last the cereal-saucer was empty, and the ribbons could be untied.

Kitty’s gift proved to be a lovely bag, of pink and blue Dresden silk.

“What’s it for?” asked King, not much impressed with its desirability.

“Oh, for anything!” cried Marjorie.  “Handkerchiefs,—­or hair-ribbons,—­or,—­or just to hang up and look pretty.”

“Pretty foolish,” opined King, but he greeted with joy the opening of the next bundle.

“Jumping Hornets!” he exclaimed; “isn’t that a beauty! Just what I wanted!”

“Whose birthday is this, anyhow?” laughed Marjorie, as she carefully unrolled the tissue-paper packing from a fine microscope.  Uncle Steve had sent it, and it was both valuable and practical, and a thing the children had long wished for.

“Well, you’ll let a fellow take a peep once in a while, won’t you?”

“Yes, if you’ll be goody-boy,” said Midget, patronizingly.

Grandma Sherwood’s gift was a cover for a sofa-pillow, of rich Oriental fabric, embroidered in gold thread.

“Just the thing for my couch, at home,” said Midget, greatly pleased.

“Just the thing to pitch at you, after it gets stuffed,” commented King.  “Go on, Mops, open the big one.”

The big one proved to be a case, from Mother and Father, containing a complete set of brushes and toilet articles for Marjorie’s dressing-table.  They were plain shapes, of ivory, with her monogram on each in dark blue.

“Gorgeous!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.  “Just what I longed for,—­and so much nicer than silver, ’cause that has to be cleaned every minute.  Oh, Mothery, they are lovely, and Fathery, too.  Consider yourselves kissed thirteen hundred times!  Oh, what’s this?”

“That’s my present,” said King.  “Open it carefully, Mops.”

She did so, and revealed a pincushion, but a pincushion so befrilled and belaced and beflowered one could scarce tell what it was.

“I picked it out myself,” said King, with obvious pride in his selection.  “I know how you girls love flummadiddles, and I took the very flummadiddlyest the old lady had.  Like it, Mops?”

“Like it!  I love it!  I adore it!  And it will go fine with this beauty ivory set.”

“Yes, you’ll have a Louis Umpsteenth boudoir, when you get back to Rockwell.”

“I shan’t use it down here,” said Marjorie, fingering the pretty trifle, “for the sea air spoils such things.  But when I get home I’ll fix my room all up gay,—­may I, Mother?”

“I ’spect so.  It’s time you had a new wallpaper, anyway, and we’ll get one with little pink rosebuds to match King’s pincushion.”

The Bryants’ gift came next.

It was in a small jeweller’s box, and was a slender gold neck chain and pendant, representing a four-leafed clover in green enamel on gold, on one petal of which were the figures thirteen in tiny diamonds.