father. "Why didn't you say what you wanted sooner? You are such a
diffident boy! Wait a minute."

Mr. Maynard disappeared into the house, and returned with a large paper
bag filled with something, they did not know what.

"Come out on the lawn," he said, and soon they were all out on the brown,
dry, winter grass.

"Catch!" and then Mr. Maynard threw to one and another, some swift, white
balls. They were really white pop-corn balls, but at first they looked
like snowballs.

The children caught on at once, and soon two or three dozen balls were
whizzing from each to each, and they had the jolliest game! The balls
were too light to hurt if they hit them, yet solid enough to throw well.

To be sure, they broke to bits after many tosses, but the game lasted a
half hour, and then Mr. Maynard declared that it was tree time.

"Sounds like tea-time," said Kitty, as they trooped in.

"Sounds a whole lot better than that!" said King.

The tree was in the living-room. It had been brought in, and trimmed
after the children went to bed the night before. So they had had no
glimpse of it, and were now more than eager to see its glories.

"Are we all here?" asked Mr. Maynard, as he looked over the group in the
hall, awaiting the opening of the doors.