"Don't say any more about what it is or isn't, or I'll guess."

"Indeed you wouldn't, Miss Mopsy, if ye guessed from now until
ye're gray-headed."

This made Midget think that the gift was not a swing, as she had
already guessed that,--and then she heard Uncle Steve's voice
calling her, and she ran gayly back to the dining-room.

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