“Ho!” said Flip; “’tisn’t our birthdays, Dot.”
“I don’t care,” said Dorothy, stoutly. She rarely made a suggestion, but when she did, she stood by it. “I mean just some little thing—a paper doll or a hair-ribbon.”
“Well,” said King, “I’d just love to have a paper doll; and as for a hair-ribbon, I need one awfully!”
Then they all laughed, but Dorothy would not be laughed down.
“Well,” she said, “your few little presents for Miss Larkin will just rattle round in that great big pie.”
“You’re right, Dot,” said Kitty, who generally saw matters very sensibly. “Let’s give each other presents, only not everybody to everybody else. I mean, let’s each give one present, and get one present.”
“Oh, Kit, you mix me up so,” groaned her brother. “Tell us more ’splicitly.”
“All right,” said Kitty, undisturbed, “here’s what I mean. S’pose Mops gives to Delight, and Delight to King, and King to Dorothy, and Dorothy to me, and me—I, to Flip, and then Flip to Midget—that makes one apiece all round, doesn’t it?”
“Katharine Maynard, you’re a genius!” declared her brother; “you’ve set my head whizzing, but I grasp your idea. Now, let me see, who is it gives me a paper doll?”
“Delight does,” returned Kitty, calmly; “and if you tease so, she will give you a paper doll, and it would serve you right, too!”