"There's the keyhole, Mopsy, which I have reason to think will fit
your key," said Uncle Steve.

"But I can't reach up to it," said Marjorie, looking very puzzled.
"What's the house for? Is it for birds?"

"Yes, for three birds that I know of, who wear gingham dresses and
hair ribbons."

"But we don't wear wings," interrupted Marjorie. "Oh, Uncle Steve,
do tell me what that house is for!"

"It's for you, chickabiddy, and if you'd like to go up there I'll
show you a way."

Uncle Steve stepped over to the double trunk, and reaching up
pulled down something, which proved to be a weight hung on the end
of a long cord. The cord reached up to the veranda of the little
house.

"Here," said Uncle Steve, as he put the weight into Marjorie's
hand, "this is perhaps as useful a birthday gift as the key I gave
you. Pull hard, and see what happens."

Marjorie pulled hard, and as she pulled, a rope ladder came
tumbling down from the edge of the little porch. It was a queer-
looking ladder, the sides being of rope and the rounds of wood,
while the top seemed to be securely fastened to the veranda floor.

"There you are," said Uncle Steve; "there's your birthday gift,