"Come to that," said Jenny, "your birthday was over at five minutes past twelve this morning."
"When will it come again?"
"Not for a whole year," said Mamma.
"I wish it would come to-morrow."
Mamma shook her head at her. "You want to be spoiled and petted every day."
"No. No. I want—I want—"
"She doesn't know what she wants," said Jenny.
"Yes. I do. I do."
"Well—"
"I want to love Papa every day. 'Cause he gave me my lamb."