“It’s a s’prise party!” cried one small lad, tumbling out behind.

“We are going up the mountain to have fun!” added a chorus of voices, as a dozen hands beckoned wildly.

“We got it up on purpose for you, so tie your hat and come away,” said a pretty girl, leaning down to kiss Marjorie, who had dropped Kitty, and stood ready for any splendid enterprise.

A word to granny, and away went the happy child, sitting up beside Billy, under the flags that waved over a happier load than any royal chariot ever bore.

It would be vain to try and tell all the plays and pleasures of happy children on a Saturday afternoon, but we may briefly say that Marjorie found a mossy stone all ready for her throne, and Billy crowned her with a garland like his own.  That a fine banquet was spread, and eaten with a relish many a Lord Mayor’s feast has lacked.  Then how the whole court danced and played together afterward!  The lords climbed trees and turned somersaults, the ladies gathered flowers and told secrets under the sweetfern-bushes, the queen lost her shoe jumping over the waterfall, and the king paddled into the pool below and rescued it.  A happy little kingdom, full of summer sunshine, innocent delights, and loyal hearts; for love ruled, and the only war that disturbed the peaceful land was waged by the mosquitoes as night came on.

Marjorie stood on her throne watching the sunset while her maids of honor packed up the remains of the banquet, and her knights prepared the chariot.  All the sky was gold and purple, all the world bathed in a soft, red light, and the little girl was very happy as she looked down at the subjects who had served her so faithfully that day.

“Have you had a good time, Marjy?” asked King William; who stood below, with his royal nose on a level with her majesty’s two dusty little shoes.

“Oh, Billy, it has been just splendid!  But I don’t see why you should all be so kind to me,” answered Marjorie, with such a look of innocent wonder, that Billy laughed to see it.

“Because you are so sweet and good, we can’t help loving you,—­that’s why,” he said, as if this simple fact was reason enough.

“I’m going to be the best girl that ever was, and love everybody in the world,” cried the child, stretching out her arms as if ready, in the fulness of her happy heart, to embrace all creation.

“Don’t turn into an angel and fly away just yet, but come home, or granny will never lend you to us any more.”

With that, Billy jumped her down, and away they ran, to ride gayly back through the twilight, singing like a flock of nightingales.

As she went to bed that night, Marjorie looked at the red bank, the pretty picture, and the daisy crown, saying to herself,—­

“It has been a very nice birthday, and I am something like the girl in the story, after all, for the old man gave me a good-luck penny, the kind lady told me how to keep happy, and Billy came for me like the prince.  The girl didn’t go back to the poor house again, but I’m glad I did, for my granny isn’t a cross one, and my little home is the dearest in the world.”