“What did your mother say?” Dulcie asked, with pardonable curiosity.
“Oh, she said Grandma had a pretty hard time keeping you all here, and we mustn’t expect too much of her. Now let’s go on with that party. What do you do about things to eat?”
“I’m afraid they’ll have to be imaginary, like all the rest of it,” said Dulcie, laughing. “Grandma won’t let us bring food up here, and we’re not allowed to eat between meals, anyway. Why, here comes Mary. What is it, Mary? Does Grandma want us?”
“It’s a package for you, Miss Dulcie,” said Mary, rather breathless from the four long flights of stairs. “It came by express, and I thought you might like to have it right away. Mrs. Winslow’s out, and Miss Kate, too.”
“Why, what in the world can it be?” cried Dulcie, and all the others gathered about her eagerly, as she untied the string.
“It’s a wooden box,” announced Molly.
“Maybe it’s a birthday present from Papa,” suggested Maud.
“Or from Lizzie,” added Daisy.
“It’s from California,” said Paul; “I see California on the back. Do you know anybody there?”
“Yes, Uncle Stephen and Miss Leslie,” said Dulcie; “it must be from one of them, but how did they know this was my birthday?”