Among the toys was a pair of horse lines with bells on it, and soon May had her good-natured father transformed into a riding-horse and galloping madly round the hall.
Then all present must needs play games suited to the calibre of the little one, and Ring around a Rosy and London Bridge proved to be her favourites.
After these unwonted exertions, everybody was ready for tea, which was then brought in. As a special dispensation, May was allowed to have her bread and milk at the same time, with the added indulgence of a few little cakes.
“Isn’t she a perfect dear?” said Patty, as she stood with the baby in her arms, after tea was finished.
“She is,” declared Philip, who stood near. “I’m not much up on kiddies, but she’s about the best-natured little piece I ever saw. I thought they always cried after a big racket like this.”
“She must say good-night now,” said Adèle. “It’s quite time, and beside, I want her to go away while her reputation is good. Now, Maisie May, go to Fräulein and go beddy.”
“Patty take May beddy.”
“No, dear, Patty must stay here with mother.”
“Patty take May beddy! Zes!” The finality of this decision was unmistakable. The most casual observer could see that unless it were complied with the scene might lose something of its sunshine and merriment.
“I should say,” judicially observed Philip, “that unless Miss May has her way this time, there will be one large and elegant ruction.”