Marjorie's Maytime Part 33

But Bertha didn't, and only said, "Come on," to her own companions, and started on herself.

"Wait a minute," said King, who was growing rather tired of Bertha's company, and was glad to meet somebody else. "I say, Bertha, introduce us to your friend."

"She's Elsie Harland," said Bertha, ungraciously, and evidently unwillingly.

But King took no notice of Bertha's unpleasant manner. "How do you do, Elsie?" he said, in his frank, boyish fas.h.i.+on. "This is my sister, Marjorie, and I am Kingdon Maynard. Can't I help you pull your wagon?

I see you've sold all your things."

"Yes; I only had post-cards to sell," said Elsie, "and the people bought them in such big bunches that now they're all gone. So I thought I'd like to go around with you, and help sell your dolls." She looked inquiringly at Bertha, who replied, "I s'pose you can, if you want to, but I should think you'd go home."

"Don't go home," said Marjorie, cordially; "come along with us, and we'll all sell dolls together."

"She can't sell our dolls," said Bertha, snappily, and this so irritated King that he couldn't help speaking out.

"Bertha Baker," he said, "if you don't behave yourself, and act more pleasant, I'll put you in the cart, and sell you for a doll!"

This so surprised Bertha that she stared at King, wonderingly, but the other girls laughed, and then they all went on together.

Bertha made no further objections, and Marjorie could see that she did try to be a little more pleasant. King saw this, too, and he realized that she was the kind of a girl who obeyed scolding better than coaxing.

So when they reached the next house, King said, "Now we'll all go in here together to sell the dolls; but we won't go until Bertha puts on a sweet smile. So, smile away, my lady!"

King's merry speech made Bertha laugh, and the dimples came in her cheeks, and she looked very pretty as they went up the walk.

"Goodness, Bertha!" exclaimed Elsie. "If you knew how much prettier you look when you smile, you'd always wear a broad grin!"

Bertha scowled at this, and seeing it, King stopped stock-still.

"Cook up that smile again!" he cried. "Not another step till you do!"

As the lady of the house was waiting for them on the veranda, this was embarra.s.sing, so Bertha smiled, and then the whole group moved on.

So they kept on for the rest of the trip, King jollying Bertha whenever it was necessary, and the other girls making merriment for themselves.

Marjorie and Elsie soon became friends, for they were alike merry-hearted and pleasant-mannered.

It was about noon when they sold their last doll and turned their faces homeward. Elsie and Bertha went with them, and when they reached Cousin Jack's house they found Kitty and May Perry already there.

"Here you are, my little peddlers! Here you are, with your empty carts!"

cried Cousin Jack, as the children came upon the veranda. "All sold out, I see."

"Yes," said Marjorie, "and we could have sold more if we had had them."

"Then there's nothing left for me to buy from you, and I really need a doll."

"I'll make you one before I go home, Cousin Jack," said Marjorie; "and then you can keep it to remember me by."

"All right, Mehitabel; good for you! I'll play with it every day,--and when I go to see my little friends I'll take it with me. And now, my weary peddlers, let me tell you what you have still before you! A number of young people, mostly retired peddlers, are coming here to luncheon with you. But we won't call it luncheon, because that sounds so prosaic.

We'll call it,--what shall we call it?"

"A festival feast," said Kitty. "That sounds gay and jolly."

"So it does," agreed Cousin Jack, "A May Day Festival Feast for the Maynards, and nothing could be pleasanter nor that!"

And even before Cousin Jack finished speaking, the young guests began to arrive, and Marjorie realized that it was a party her kind cousins had made for them.

There were about twenty guests all together, and as they wore the pretty costumes they had worn as peddlers, it was a picturesque group.

"Ho, for the Festival Feast!" exclaimed Cousin Jack, and taking Marjorie and Kitty by either hand he went dancing with them across the lawn.

Under a clump of trees they discovered that a table had been set, though it had not been visible from the house.

The table was like a vision of Fairyland, and Marjorie thought she had never before seen such a pretty one.

The decorations were of pink, and in the middle of the table was a wicker pushcart of fairly good size, filled with parcels wrapped in pink tissue paper. From each parcel a long end of ribbon led to the plate of each little guest. Also at each place was a much smaller pushcart of gilded wicker-work tied with pink bows, and filled with candies.

Pink sweet peas and ferns were scattered over the white tablecloth, and across the table ran a broad pink satin ribbon which bore in gold letters the legend, "May for the Maynards, the Maynards for May!"

"What a beautiful table!" cried Marjorie, as the lovely sight greeted her eyes.

"What beautiful guests!" cried Cousin Jack, as he looked at the smiling, happy crowd of children. And then he helped them to find their places, which were marked by pretty cards, painted with pink flowers.

As far as possible, everything was trimmed with pink. The china was white with pink bands, the rolled sandwiches were tied with little pink ribbons, the little cakes were iced with pink, and there were pink candies, and pink ice cream, and pink lemonade.

Then after the feast was over, the children were instructed to pull gently on the ribbons that lay at their plate, and thus draw toward them the pink paper parcels.

These being opened proved to contain a dainty gift for each one, the prevailing color, of course, being pink.

"It's the pinkiest party I ever saw!" exclaimed Marjorie. "It makes it seem more like May, being so pinky!"

"That's because it's for the Pink of Perfection," said Cousin Jack, looking fondly at Marjorie, whom he considered his chief guest.

Then they all left the table, and with Cousin Jack as ringleader, they played merry games until late in the afternoon.

At last the children all went home, and Marjorie threw her arms around Cousin Jack's neck, in a burst of grat.i.tude. "You are too good to us!"

she exclaimed.

"Now, Mehitabel, you know I think nothing could be too good for you, you're such a gay little Maynard! Can't I induce you to stay here with me when your people go home to-morrow?"

Marjorie laughed, for this was the second invitation she had had to leave her family. But she well knew Cousin Jack didn't expect her to do it, and so she smiled, and said, "I couldn't be induced to do that, Cousin Jack; but I think it would be awfully nice if you and Cousin Ethel would come and live in Rockwell. Then we could see you so much oftener."

"I'm not sure that we can go and live there,--but if we were coaxed very hard, we might come and visit you same time."

"I rather think you will!" said Mr. Maynard, heartily, "and the sooner you come, and the longer you stay, the better we'll like it!"

And before the Maynards left Cambridge, it was definitely arranged that Cousin Jack and Cousin Ethel should visit them in the near future.

The next day the Maynards started for home. They were to stop a day or two in Boston, and then proceed by easy stages back to Rockwell.

As the big car started away from the Bryant house, after farewells both merry and affectionate, the children sang in gay chorus, one of their favorite road songs: