Buff, as usual, sat on the window-sill in the sun. He allowed Sally to tie the blue sash round his neck in a birthday bow. But the moment she had finished he clawed it off, and when she tried again, he ran up the black-cherry tree where Sally couldn’t reach him, and only blinked his eyes at her when she called him to come down.
Tippy was more agreeable. He permitted Sally to fasten a gay red bow on his collar, and barked and jumped about as if he really liked it.
‘Now, Buff, look at Tip,’ said Sally reproachfully. ‘But you shan’t have the blue ribbon now, not if you cry for it.’
And Sally went upstairs to tie round Snow White’s plump neck the blue sash, that streamed out finely in the wind and gave a holiday look to the whole house.
Soon it was time for the party, and in came Andy and Alice, gay and smiling Andy with his ball and Alice with jolly Jack Tar.
They bounced their balls, they ran races in the garden. They looked at the new picture books and played with the marbles and the tea-set.
Then Mother called them, and there stood a little table, all set for three, with Aunt Bee’s tea-set that she had when she was a little girl, and a cake, a birthday cake, right in the middle of the table.
It was a white cake, white as snow, and on it were not candles—Sally had had candles last year—but mice, six chocolate mice, with tiny pointed chocolate ears, white sugar eyes, and, actually, long pointed chocolate tails. Never was there such a birthday surprise! Who but Mother and Aunt Bee would have thought of such a thing and would have searched the big city over until the mice were found!
There were sandwiches and milk, all you could eat and drink, but of course the cake was the real party. Mother cut it, and on top of Sally’s piece there sat a mouse, and one on Alice’s and on Andy’s piece, too.
‘There are three mice left,’ said Sally. ‘One for Mother, one for Aunt Bee, and one for Father. But what will Uncle Paul do?’