“Miss Blanche Bud.”
Dulcie advanced and held out her hand.
“I’m very glad to see you, Blanche,” she said. “It was lovely of you to come to my party. Your dress is very pretty. Oh, are these flowers for me? How very sweet of you to bring them. Maud, please put these roses in water.”
“Isn’t it fun?” giggled Maud, seizing the imaginary bouquet from her sister’s outstretched hand. “If I shut my eyes tight, and pretend very hard, I can almost make myself believe it’s a real party.”
Paul was finding some difficulty in keeping his promise not to laugh.
“Let me come next,” he urged, and Molly, with another glance at the mysterious package in Paul’s hand, announced:
“Master Paul Chester.”
“How do you do, Paul?” said Dulcie, gravely. “I’m glad you could come. It’s rather a cloudy day, isn’t it?”
“Many happy returns of the day, and here’s a present for you,” said Paul, thrusting his parcel into Dulcie’s hand, and instantly retreating to the background.
“Why—why, it’s a real present!” cried Dulcie, quite forgetting the make-believe party in her surprise.