"That _was_ about the best part," said Kitty, reminiscently.

"Well, the pink ice cream part sounds delightful, I'm sure; but what was
the rest of the party about?"

"Oh, it was a May party," exclaimed Marjorie, "and we had May Queens, and
a May King, and May Princesses, and everything! I do love May, don't you,
Father? Everything is so bright and bloomy and Maysy. I think it is the
loveliest month in the year."

"Yes, it is a lovely month, Mopsy, and a good month to be out of doors.
Maytime is playtime."

"Yes, I know it; I made a song this morning about that. I'll sing it to
you." And Marjorie sang for her father the little verse she had mad about
Marjorie Maynard's May.

"Huh!" said King, "'tisn't your May, any more than anybody else's, Midget
Maynard."

"No, I know it; but I like to think the May just belongs to us Maynards.
Anyway we have it all. It is our May even if other people use it, too."

"I don't begrudge them the use of it," said Kitty; "of course, it's just
as much theirs as ours."

"Yes, of course," assented Marjorie; "I'm only just sort of imagining,
you know."

"Let me help you imagine. Midget," said her father. "How would you like