Flaxie walked about from room to room in deep thought. Finally, she paused at the open door of her mother's chamber, and looked in. On the floor beside Mrs. Gray stood a basket piled with very small dolls, which she was dressing with strips of bright ribbon, and bows of narrow taste. One of these tiny dolls was to be placed under each guest's plate, and carried home as a memento of Ethel's first party.
"Mamma," asked Flaxie, still in a brown study, "how many dollies did you buy, and how many girls am I going to invite?"
"Well, Mary, here are twenty dollies. I thought you and Ethel would each want one, and I meant you should ask eighteen little girls."
"Could I ask one more, mamma?"
"Eighteen is a large number, Mary; isn't it enough? Oh, do you want little Kittyleen?"
"Kittyleen, mamma? Why, no, indeed! She'd spoil everything. I don't want Kittyleen! I mean Ethel wouldn't want her; it's Ethel's kettledrum, of course."
Flaxie was careful to say repeatedly, "It is Ethel's kettledrum," lest she should forget it was not her own.
"Well, dear, who is the 'one more,' if not Kittyleen?"
Flaxie did not answer directly.