"Well," said his father, "where will you hold this performance? I can't have you prowling all over the house, waking up honest people who are abed and asleep."
"You must take the nursery," said Mrs. Maynard. "I wouldn't let you stay downstairs alone, but you may stay in the nursery as late as you like. I daresay by ten or half-past, you'll be glad to give it up, and go to your beds."
"Not we," said King. "Thank you, heaps, for letting us do it. We're going to have a fine time. Come on, girls!"
"One minute, King; you're not to make any noise after ten-thirty. Grandma goes to her room then, and the rest of us soon after."
"All right, we won't. It isn't going to be a noisy party, anyhow."
"Then I don't see how it can be a Maynard party," said Uncle Steve, quizzically, but the children had run away.
"Now, we'll just have the time of our lives!" said King, as the three of them reached the nursery.
"Of course we will," agreed Marjorie. "What shall we do?"
"Let's see, it's nine o'clock. We can play anything till half-past ten; after that we can only do quiet things. Let's play Blind Man's Buff."
"All right, you be it."