That is what each one says before it puts on its nightcap and goes to sleep.
But every fourth year there comes one who is bigger than the rest. He has one day more, and he is very proud of it, and holds his head very high, and says,—
“Three—hundred—and sixty-six!
One more day for frolicsome tricks.
One day more for work and for play.
Look at me! look at me! One MORE DAY!!!”
“And so four years ago,” said Mamma, “there came one of these extra days, and it was the very best day that any year ever brought, for on that day my Bobby was born! Think of that!”
Bobby laughed and clapped his little fat hands.
“And so,” continued Mamma, “of course my Bobby couldn’t have another birthday till another long year came round, with another extra day. And now,—whisper, Bobby! now the long year has come, and next Friday is your birthday, dear, and you are going to have—oh! but I mustn’t tell!”
Mamma laughed and shook her head, and didn’t tell any more, but her eyes told a great deal; and that was all Bobby wanted, for he was very fond of surprises and secrets.