"Look, Father, don't you love it!"

"Love it?" he re-echoed, ironical over the word love.

She stood for some moments, trying to force his attention. Then she
went back to her place.

Marjory had brought forth a golden apple, red on one cheek, rather
garish.

"Oh!" exclaimed Millicent feverishly, instantly seized with desire for
what she had not got, indifferent to what she had. Her eye ran quickly
over the packages. She took one.

"Now!" she exclaimed loudly, to attract attention. "Now! What's
this?--What's this? What will this beauty be?"

With finicky fingers she removed the newspaper. Marjory watched her
wide-eyed. Millicent was self-important.

"The blue ball!" she cried in a climax of rapture. "I've got THE BLUE
BALL."

She held it gloating in the cup of her hands. It was a little globe
of hardened glass, of a magnificent full dark blue color. She rose
and went to her father.

"It was your blue ball, wasn't it, father?"