The Three Happy Children love him. That's what we always call them,
though they, too, have other names--funny ones, you will
think,--Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah Green, but they are
family names and came from some very old uncles and aunts.

They still live in the White House with the Green Blinds by the Side
of the Road--that is, when they aren't sliding down hill, or fishing
in the Pond, or riding on the hay, or to town with the Toyman and Ole
Methusaleh. Mother and Father are still there. Home wouldn't be home
without them. And they have many playmates and friends--of all sorts
--two-legged and four-legged, in serge and corduroy, in feathers and fur.

[Illustration: "When they aren't riding on the hay, or to town with
the Toyman and Ole Methusaleh."]

What they all did, the fun they had, and the trouble they got in and
out of, you'll find if you turn these pages.

One thing more--a secret--in _absolute_ confidence,
though.--After all, it isn't really so _very_ necessary to read
these stories at _Half-Past Seven_. You can read them, or be read
to, "any ole time," as the Toyman used to say--Monday morning,
Thursday noon, or Saturday night--as long as it doesn't interfere with
those lessons.

Still, the very best time is at twilight in summer when the lights and
the fireflies begin to twinkle through the dusk, or in the winter
around the fire just before you go to bed--with Father or Mother--or
the Toyman.