Carolyn Wells

Marjorie's Maytime Carolyn Wells

When Mr. Maynard came home that night he was treated to an account of the whole affair, but as two or three of the little Maynards often talked at once, the effect was sometimesunintelligible."It was the loveliest party, Father," said Marjorie, as she hung over one arm of his chair, andarranged a somewhat large bunch of blossoms in his buttonhole."Yes, it was," agreed Kitty, who hung on the other arm of the chair, and investigated his coatpockets in the hope of finding a box of candy or other interesting booty."It sure was!" declared King, who was sitting on a footstool near, and hugging one kneewith apparently intense affection."And what made it so especially delightful?" asked Mr. Maynard, as he balanced Rosy Posyon his knee; "you tell me, Baby.""It was a bootiful party," said Rosy Posy, with decision, "because we had pink ice cream.""That was about the best part," said Kitty, reminiscently."Well, the pink ice cream part sounds delightful, I'm sure; but what was the rest of the partyabout?""Oh, it was a May party," exclaimed Marjorie, "and we had May Queens, and a May King, andMay Princesses, and everything! I do love May, don't you, Father? Everything is so brightand bloomy and Maysy. I think it is the loveliest month in the year.""Yes, it is a lovely month, Mopsy, and a good month to be out of doors. Maytime is playtime.""Yes, I know it; I made a song this morning about that. I'll sing it to you." And Marjorie sangfor her father the little verse she had mad about Marjorie Maynard's May