“I’m not sayin’ it isn’t a swing,” said Eliza, “and I’m not sayin’ it is.  And I’m not sayin’ it isn’t a merry-go-around-about, or whativer ye call thim noisy things that they do be havin’ down by the circus tent, and I’m not sayin’ it is.”

“Don’t say any more about what it is or isn’t, or I’ll guess.”

“Indeed you wouldn’t, Miss Mopsy, if ye guessed from now until ye’re gray-headed.”

This made Midget think that the gift was not a swing, as she had already guessed that,—­and then she heard Uncle Steve’s voice calling her, and she ran gayly back to the dining-room.

The birthday breakfast was a festival indeed.  Marjorie’s place was decorated with flowers, and even the back of her chair was garlanded with wreaths.

At her plate lay such a huge pile of parcels, tied up in bewitching white papers and gay ribbons, that it seemed as if it would take all day to examine them.

“Goodness me!” exclaimed Midget.  “Did anybody ever have so many birthday gifts?  Are they all for me?”

“Any that you don’t want,” said Uncle Steve, “you may hand over to me.  I haven’t had a birthday for several years now, and I’d be thankful for one small gift.”

“You shall have the nicest one here,” declared Marjorie, “and I don’t care what it is, or who sent it.”

“The nicest one isn’t here,” observed Grandma, with a merry twinkle in her eye, and Marjorie knew that she was thinking of the surprise in the orchard.

“Of course, I mean except the swing,” said Marjorie, looking roguishly at Uncle Steve to see if she had guessed right.

“You’ve been peeping!” he exclaimed, in mock reproach, and then Marjorie knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t a swing.

“You know I haven’t—­you know I wouldn’t,” she declared, and then she began to open the lovely-looking bundles.

It did seem as if everybody that Marjorie knew had remembered her birthday.  There were gifts from everybody at home, to begin with.  Mrs. Maynard had sent the sweetest blue-silk sash, and Mr. Maynard a beautiful book.  The children all sent toys or games or trinkets, and every one seemed to Marjorie to be just what she had wanted.

There was a cup and saucer from Eliza, and small tokens from Carter and Jane.  For Marjorie was a great pet with the servants, and they all adored her.

But among all the bundles there was no gift from Grandma or Uncle Steve, and Marjorie wondered what had become of the mysterious work which Grandma had been doing all shut up in her own room.

But even as she was thinking about it, Grandma explained: 

“Our gifts will come later,” she said.  “When Uncle Steve gives you his birthday surprise, I will add my contribution.”

Just after the last parcel had been untied, Molly and Stella came flying in.  That is, Molly came flying, while serious little Stella walked at her usual sedate pace.