“Molly Moss,” exclaimed Uncle Steve, “you have a wonderfully clever head for your years!  How did you ever guess that a key would unlock something?  You must have seen keys before!”

“But she never saw this one,” cried Midge.  “Oh, Uncle Steve, what is it for?”

“You’ve been in suspense quite long enough, and now we’ll try to find a lock for that key to fit.  Grandma and I will go first, and if you three young ladies will follow us, we will go and hunt for a keyhole.”

Full of delightful anticipation, the three girls followed their older leaders.  Marjorie was in the middle, her arms twined about Molly and Stella on either side, and their arms around her.  Molly and Midge wanted to skip, but Stella never skipped, so the result was a somewhat joggly gait as they went down the path to the orchard.

The south meadow was a wide expanse of humpy grass-land, with only a few trees here and there.

Especially fine trees were two that were usually called the twin maples.  These two very old trees grew side by side, their great trunks not more than four feet apart and their branches so intermingled that they were practically one tree in two parts.  The delightful shade of this double tree afforded a favorite playground for the children, and they had missed it during the past week when they were forbidden to go into the meadow.

As they neared the meadow, Marjorie grew more and more amazed.  There was nothing unusual in sight:  no swing, no merry-go-round, and certainly nothing that a key could unlock.  They reached the twin maples, and then Uncle Steve said:  “If you’ll all step around to the other side of this tree I think we may discover that missing keyhole.”

The girls scampered around, and, looking up into the tree, they saw such an astonishing sight that the three simply sat down on the ground and stared at it.  It was nothing more nor less than a house, a real little house high above the ground and nestled into the branches of the trees, just as a bird’s nest might be.

The house, which was big enough for the girls to have gone into if they could have reached it, had a front door and a window on either side.  There was a veranda on which stood three small rustic benches, quite strong enough to have held the three girls had they had wings to fly up there.  The veranda had a railing around it, above which hung two hanging-baskets filled with bright flowers.

The door was shut and a keyhole could be distinctly seen.

“There’s the keyhole, Mopsy, which I have reason to think will fit your key,” said Uncle Steve.

“But I can’t reach up to it,” said Marjorie, looking very puzzled.  “What’s the house for?  Is it for birds?”

“Yes, for three birds that I know of, who wear gingham dresses and hair ribbons.”

“But we don’t wear wings,” interrupted Marjorie.  “Oh, Uncle Steve, do tell me what that house is for!”