"Yes; don't you remember you told Rhoda you were going to give him one for being so accommodating?"
"Oh, I'd forgotten. Well, here, I'll give him this,—it's the very thing;" and Elsie snatched up a bright purple one.
"Oh, Elsie, don't!"
But Elsie fairly danced with glee as she cried, "I will, I will; it's the very thing,—royal purple to Royal Purple!"
The young visitors, when all this was explained to them, joined in the merriment; but Marge—kind, tender little Marge—hid away one of the blue and white lily eggs, to get the advantage of Elsie's mischief by bestowing that upon Royal.
But Royal was quite out of Elsie's thoughts by Monday morning. It was a beautiful morning; and by nine o'clock, when Tom and Jimmy Barrows arrived, the lawn and sloping knoll at the east of it were bright and dry with sunshine. On the piazza the various baskets of eggs were standing; only "Jimmy Barrows's gift" had been set aside as "too good to use."
"My! haven't you got a lot, though?" cried Tom, as he surveyed them. "But what are these in the box here?"
"Yes, what are they?" sparkled Elsie. "Ask Jimmy Barrows."
Jimmy, with a wondering expression on his face at this remark, came over and looked down at the treasured eggs. "Who did these?" he asked quickly.
"'Who did these?'" mimicked Elsie. "Oh, you needn't try that. We found you out at once, or I did."