So they had a rollicking game of "Going to Jerusalem," and then the party was over.
Marjorie said good-night politely to Mrs. Fulton and the other grown-ups who had entertained them, making her pretty little bobbing courtesy, as she had been taught to do.
Kingdon said good-night in his frank, boyish way, and then they went for their wraps.
"Oh, Father," said Midget as they crossed the street to their own home, "it was the very loveliest party! Can't I sit up for a while and tell you every single thing that happened?"
"I'd love to have you do that, Mopsy Midget; in fact, I can scarcely wait till morning to hear about it all. But it is my duty as a stern parent to order you off to bed at once. Little girls that wheedle fond fathers into letting them go to evening parties must be content to scoot for bed the minute they get home."
"All right, then, Father, but do get up early in the morning to hear all about it, won't you?"
"I'll guarantee to get up as early as you do, Sleepyhead," said Mr. Maynard, for Marjorie was yawning as if the top of her head was about to come off.
Mrs. Maynard accompanied the little girl to her bedroom, but Midge was too tired to do more than tell her mother that it was the most beautiful party in the world, and that next day she should hear all about it.
"I can wait, little girl," said Mrs. Maynard, as she tucked Midget up and kissed her good-night, but the exhausted child was already in the land of dreams.