“I am,” said the lady, flashing him a laughing look. “That’s what I came for. I am going to forget the years (don’t be cruel enough to count them, Cousin Pen), and for two hours (is it only two hours we have, Pollykins?) be a little girl again to-night.”
And, taking Polly’s hand, she tripped away from the grown-ups on the porch, and things were started indeed.
Grove and garden, maze and lawn, suddenly sparkled with jewelled lights; the stringed band in the pagoda burst into gay music. Led by a silvery vision, Polly’s guests formed a great ring-around-a-rosy for an opening measure, and the party began. And, with a fairy godmother like Miss Stella leading the fun, it was a party to be remembered. There were marches and games, there was blind man’s buff through the jewel-lit maze, there was a Virginia reel to music gay enough to make a hundred-year-old tortoise dance. There was the Jack Horner pie, fully six feet round, and fringed with gay ribbons to pull out the plums. Wonderful plums they were. Minna Foster drew a silver belt buckle; her little sister, a blue locket; Dud, a scarf-pin; Jim, a pocketknife with enough blades and “fixings” to fill a miniature tool chest; and Freddy, a paint box quite as complete; while Dan pulled out the biggest plum of all—a round white box with a silver cord.
As it came out at the end of his red ribbon, there was a moment’s breathless hush, broken by Polly’s glad cry:
“The prize,—the prize, Marraine! Dan has drawn my birthday prize!” And, under a battery of curious and envious eyes, Dan opened the box to find within a pretty gold watch, ticking a most cheering greeting to its new owner.
“Dan,—Dan!” Polly’s jubilant voice rose over all the chorus around him. “Oh, I’m so glad you got it, Dan!”
And Marraine’s eyes followed Polly’s delighted glance with the same look of curious interest that she had bent upon Dan a while ago on the porch.
“Do you mean that this is for me?” he blurted out, in bewilderment.
“Yes, for you,—for you,” repeated Polly in high glee. “It’s real gold and keeps real time, and it’s yours forever!”
“It’s too—too much—I mean it’s—it’s too fine for a fellow like me,” stammered Dan. “What will I do with it?”