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Page 49
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.
"Many happy returns of the day!" cried Molly, "and here's my
gift." She had in her arms a large and rather ungainly bundle,
loosely wrapped in white tissue paper.
Together she and Marjorie hastily pulled off the papers, and there
was a beautiful cat-basket trimmed with blue ribbons and lined
with soft cushions for Puff to sleep in.
"Oh!" cried Marjorie, flinging her arms around Molly's neck,
"that's just what I've been wanting ever since I've had that
kitten." And grabbing up Puff, who was never very far away, she
laid her in the basket.
Puff seemed delighted with her new bed, and, after curiously
sniffing and poking into all the nooks and corners of it, she
curled up and began to purr herself to sleep.
Stella's gift was a dainty, little white-silk parasol, with a
frill around it, which seemed to Marjorie the loveliest thing she
had ever seen.
"It's beautiful, Stella!" she exclaimed. "And I shall always carry
it whenever I'm dressed up enough. I hope you girls will have your
birthdays soon, so I can give you some lovely things, too."
"Have you had your surprise yet?" asked impatient Molly, who,
according to her usual fashion, was prancing about the room on one
foot; while Stella sat demurely in a chair, her hands quietly
folded in her lap, though her eyes seemed to make the same
inquiry.
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