Marjorie's Busy Days

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THANKSGIVING DAY

  The Thanksgiving Dinner was a jollification.

  The Maynard children were always a merry crowd, but the added element ofMolly's gaiety gave a new zest to the fun.

  The pretty table decorations, planned for the expected guests, weremodified better to suit the children's tastes, and when dinner wasannounced and they all went out to the dining-room, a general shout ofapplause was raised.

  In the middle of the table was a large "horn of plenty," fashioned ofgilded pasteboard. From its capacious mouth were tumbling oranges,apples, bananas, grapes, nuts, figs, and raisins. The horn itself wasbeautifully decorated, and seemed to be suspended from the chandelierabove by red ribbons.

  Also, red ribbons, starting from the horn itself, led to each person'splate, and at the end of each ribbon was a name-card.

  Gleefully the children took their places, and laughed merrily at thefunny little souvenirs that stood at their plates.

  Kingdon had a jolly pig, made of a lemon, with wooden toothpicks stuckin for legs, a curly tail made of a bit of celery, and two black-headedpins for eyes.

  Marjorie had a horse made of a carrot, which looked like a very friskysteed, indeed.

  "It should have been made of a horse-radish," said Mr. Maynard, who wasthe originator of these toys, "but I feared that would make you weepinstead of laugh."

  Molly had a gay-looking figure, whose head was a fig, his body a potato,and his legs and arms bunches of raisins. He wore a red fez with afeather in it, and a red tunic tied with gold braid.

  Kitty had a nut doll, whose head was a hazelnut, and its body an Englishwalnut. Its feet and hands were peanuts, stuck on the ends of matches.

  Rosy Posy had a card on which were several white mice. These were madeof blanched almonds, fastened to the card by stitches of thread, whichlooked like tiny legs and tails.

  Mrs. Maynard found at her place a tiny figure of a dancing girl. Thehead was a small white grape, and the body and ruffled skirts weremerely a large carnation turned upside down.

  And Mr. Maynard's own souvenir was a funny old fat man, whose body wasan apple, and his head a hickory nut.

  Molly had never seen such toys before, and she was enraptured with them,declaring she should learn to make them for her friends at home.

  "You can do it, if you try," said Marjorie, sagely; "but they aren'teasy to make. Father does them so beautifully, because he is patient andcareful. But you and I, Molly, are too slapdash. We'd never take painsto make them so neatly."

  "Yes, I would," declared Molly, positively; "because I see how nice theylook when they're done well! I don't want any broken-legged pigs, ortumble-to-pieces dolls."

  "That's the way to talk," said Mr. Maynard, approvingly; "I foresee,Molly, we shall be great friends, and I'll teach you the noble art ofwhat I call 'pantry sculpture.'"

  After the turkey and other substantial dishes had been disposed of,dessert was brought, and, to the great delight of the children, itcomprised many and various confections.

  First, there was placed at each plate a dear little mince pie, hot, andcovered with a drift of powdered sugar. In the middle of each pie stooda lighted candle.

  "Oh, ho, it's somebody's birthday!" cried King, as he saw the candles.

  "Somebody's only one year old, then," said Molly.

  "These aren't birthday candles exactly," said Mr. Maynard. "They're justcandles to keep the pies hot. But as I want to eat my pie, I'll just eatthe candle first, and get it out of the way."

  So saying, he calmly blew out the flame, and in a moment had eaten thecandle, wick and all!

  "Oh, Father!" cried Marjorie. "How could you do that? Do you like waxcandles?"

  "These candles aren't exactly wax," said her father, "and I must saymine tasted very good."

  Molly's bright black eyes snapped.

  "If Mr. Maynard can eat candles, so can I!" she declared, and, blowingout the flame, she bit off the end of her own candle.

  "It _is_ good," she said, as she munched it. "I like candles, too."

  So then they all tried eating candles. Marjorie tasted hers carefully,and then took a larger bite.

  "Why, it's apple!" she cried. And so it was. The "candles" had been cutwith an apple-corer, and the "wicks" were bits of almond cut the rightshape and stuck in the top of the candle. The oil in the nut causes itto burn for a few moments, and the whole affair looks just like a realcandle.

  The mince pies were followed by ice-cream, and that by fruits andcandies, and then the feast was over, but every one carried away thejolly little souvenirs to keep as mementoes of the occasion. Skating wasthe order of the afternoon.

  Mr. Maynard went with the older children, while Mrs. Maynard and RosyPosy amused themselves at home.

  Kitty couldn't skate very well, but all the others were fairly goodskaters, and soon they were gliding over the ice, while Mr. Maynardpushed Kitty in a sliding chair. She thought she had the most fun ofall, but the others preferred their own feet to a chair, and skatedtirelessly around the lake, not at all dismayed by somewhat frequentupsets and tumbledowns.

  The Fultons joined them, and several others, and Molly soon madeacquaintance with many of the Maynards' friends.

  Molly was such a daring child that Mr. Maynard carefully warned herabout going near the thin places in the ice, and she promised to avoidthem. But it was with some uneasiness he watched the young skaters,when, at Molly's suggestion, they played "Snap the Whip."

  This meant to join hands in a long row, and, after skating rapidly, theone at the end stood still and swung the others round like the lash of awhip. No trouble was likely to occur if they held hands firmly. But toseparate meant that the end ones would be whirled away, and might get abad fall.

  As the boys were strong and sturdy, and the girls had promised to holdon tightly and carefully, Mr. Maynard let them play this game, though hehad always thought it a dangerous sport.

  "Just once more," begged Marjorie, when at last he told them he wouldrather they'd play something else--and permission was given for one more"Snap the Whip," on condition that it should be the last. And it was.

  Marjorie was on one end, and Molly was next to her.

  Kingdon was at the other end, and, after a few vigorous strokes, hepulled the line about so suddenly that Molly, who was not expecting itso soon, was jerked away from her next neighbor.

  She and Marjorie were flung with force across the ice, but they werequite alert, kept their balance perfectly, and would have been skatingback again in a minute, but they chanced upon a thin place in the ice,and it broke through, and in they went!

  Many of the children screamed, but Molly's voice rang out clear abovethe rest:

  "Don't yell so! We're all right, only it's awful cold. Just get us outas quick as you can."

  Relieved to learn that they hadn't gone under the water, Mr. Maynardsoon found a fence-rail, and, with the boys' assistance, it was not longbefore the dripping girls were once more outside the lake, instead ofinside.

  "No harm done, if you obey my orders," said Mr. Maynard, cheerily, forthe two white faces looked more scared than they had at first. Hehurriedly took off their skates, and then said, "Now, run for home, justas fast as you can go, and the one who gets there first shall have aprize."

  A little bewildered by this order, but quite ready to obey, Marjoriestarted at once and fairly flew over the hard ground. Molly followed,and in a moment had overtaken and passed Midget. But spurred by this,Midget ran faster, and at last, quite out of breath, and also quitewarm, they reached the Maynard house at almost exactly the same time.

  Exhausted, they tumbled in at the door, and Mrs. Maynard met them in thehall.

  "What _is_ the matter?" she exclaimed. "Where _have_ you been?"

  "Skating," said Marjorie, hurriedly, "and we fell in, and Father saidto run home quick and get dry shoes and things and he'd give us aprize."

  "A prize!" said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "You deserve a prize, indeed! Ahot
bath is what you'll get, and a drink of hot milk."

  "All right," said Mopsy, cheerfully, "I don't mind; and, while we'reabout it, we may as well dress for afternoon."

  The programme was carried out as arranged, and not very long after twospick-and-span little girls were sitting by the library fire, sippinghot milk with nutmeg in it.

  "Well, upon my word!" said Mr. Maynard, coming in with King and Kitty."I must have been mistaken! Only a short time ago I saw two childrenfloundering in the lake, and I thought--I truly did--that they wereMidge and Molly! How could I have made such a foolish mistake?"

  "It was strange, indeed!" said Molly, with twinkling eyes. "Have youbeen skating, Mr. Maynard?"

  "Part of the time. But the rest of the time I was organizing andassisting a rescue party to save those foolish children I was justtelling you of."

  "We were foolish!" cried Marjorie, jumping up and running to herfather's arms. "I'll never do it again, Daddy, dear."

  "Indeed you won't, my lady. I hereby issue a mandamus, a fiat, awrit,--and if you don't know what those things are, I'll say a plainevery-day rule that is not to be broken,--that you are never to play'Snap the Whip' again. This is a rule for Marjorie, and to you, Molly,it's a piece of advice."

  "I'll take it," said Molly, so meekly that Mr. Maynard smiled, and said:

  "Now that incident is closed, and we needn't mention it again. I don'tbelieve you'll even take cold from your sudden plunge, for you both ranhome like killdeer. And, by the way, who won the prize?"

  "We came in almost exactly together," said Marjorie. "I was a little bitahead at the door, but Molly was first at the gate, so isn't that even?"

  "It surely is, and so you must both have prizes. I haven't them with meat the moment, but I'll engage to supply them before Molly goes home."

  Thanksgiving evening was given over to games and quiet frolics.

  Mrs. Maynard said the children had had enough excitement for one day,and they must play only sitting-still games, and then go to bed early.So Mr. Maynard proposed a game in which all could join, and when it wasfinished it would be bedtime for young people.

  He produced a large spool, through which had been run a number ofdifferent colored and very narrow ribbons. Mr. Maynard held the spool,with the short ends of the ribbons hanging out toward himself, while thelong ends of the ribbons, which reached across the room were apportionedone to each child.

  They were allowed to select their own colors, and Marjorie took red, andMolly pink. Kitty had the blue one, and King a yellow one. Mrs. Maynardheld a white one, and as Rosamond had gone to bed, no more ribbons wereused, though there were others in the spool.

  "Now," said Mr. Maynard, "I'll begin to tell a story, make it up as I goalong, you know, and then when I stop I'll pull one of these ends. Iwon't look to see which one I pull, but whoever holds the other end ofthe same ribbon, must take up the story and go on with it. Do youunderstand?"

  "Yes," said all the children at once; so Mr. Maynard began:

  "Once on a time there was a Princess who hadn't any name. The reason forthis sad state of affairs was that no one could think of a name goodenough for her. She was so beautiful and so lovely and sweet-temperedthat every name seemed commonplace, and the King and Queen who were herparents offered a great reward to any one who would suggest a name thatseemed appropriate. But, though they proposed every name that was known,and made up a great many more, none seemed to suit, and so the Princessgrew up without any name at all. But one day her grandmother gave her alovely little writing-desk for a birthday present. The Princess wasdelighted, and immediately she learned to write letters. But, strange tosay, she never received any answers to the letters she sent. Dayspassed, and weeks passed, but nobody answered the letters. She went tothe Court Wise Man, and said to him:

  "'Prithee, tell me, oh, Seer, why do my friends not answer the letters Ihave sent them?'

  "'Oh, Princess!' said the Court Wise Man, 'it is because you have noname, and, though they have already written letters to you, they knownot how to address them. For how can one address a letter to a namelessperson?'

  "'How, indeed!' cried the Princess. 'But I will have a name. I willchoose one for myself.'

  "So she sat down, and thought deeply for a long time, and then shejumped up, saying:

  "'I have chosen a name! I shall henceforth be called----'"

  Mr. Maynard made a dramatic pause, and then pulled quickly on one of theends of ribbon that hung from his side of the spool.