“Oh, ho!  Diamonds!” cried King.  “You’re altogether too young to wear diamonds, Mops.  Better give it to me for a watch fob.”

“I’m not, am I, Father?” said Marjorie, turning troubled eyes to her father.

“No, Midget.  Not those little chips of stones.  A baby could wear those.  And by the way, where is Baby’s gift?”

“My p’esent!” cried Rosy Posy, who had sat until now silent, in admiration of the unfolding wonders.  “My p’esent, Middy!  It’s a palumasol!”

“Then it’s this long bundle,” said Marjorie, and she unwrapped a beautiful little parasol of embroidered white linen.

“Oh, Rosy Posyeums!” she cried.  “This is too booful!  I never saw such a pretty one!”

“Me buyed it!  Me and Muvver!  Oh, it’s too booful!” and the baby kicked her fat, bare legs in glee at her own gift.

Grandma and Grandpa Maynard sent a silver frame, containing their photographs, and Grandma sent also a piece of fine lace, which was to be laid away until Marjorie was old enough to put it to use.  It was her custom to send such a piece each year, and Marjorie’s collection was already a valuable one.

There were many small gifts and cards from friends in Rockwell, and from some of the Seacote children, and when all were opened, Midget begged King to help her take them to the living-room, where they might be displayed on a table.

And then the Bryants arrived, and the house rang with their greetings and congratulations.

“Unlucky Midget!” cried Cousin Jack.  “Poor little unlucky Mopsy Midget Mehitabel!  Oh, what a sad fate to be thirteen years old, and to be so loaded down with birthday gifts that you don’t know where you’re at!

    “Mopsy Midget Mehitabel May
    Has come to a most unlucky day! 
    Nothing will happen but feasting and fun,
    And gifts,—­pretty nearly a hundred and one! 
    Jolly good times, and jolly good wishes,
    A jolly good party with jolly good dishes. 
    Every one happy and everything bright,
    Good Luck is here—­and bad Luck out of sight. 
    ’Tis the luckiest day that ever was seen,
    For Marjorie Maynard is just thirteen!”

“Oh, Cousin Jack, what a beautiful birthday poem!  I’m sure there couldn’t be a luckier little girl than I!  I’ve got everything!”

“And we’ve got you!” cried her father, catching her in his arms with a heart full of gratitude that she was safe at home with them.

* * * * *

The party was to begin at four o’clock, and the guests were invited to stay until seven.  In good season Marjorie was dressed, and down on the veranda ready to receive her little friends.

She wore a pretty, thin white frock, with delicate embroidery, and the pendant that had been her birthday gift.

The family were all assembled when she came down, and though it would be half an hour before they could expect the guests, they all seemed filled with eager anticipation.