o she and Cinders were in high spirits and prepared to enjoy the
birthday treat to the uttermost. She carried a small--very small--bag of
cakes which Mademoiselle had packed for her picnic--poor Mademoiselle,
who could not understand how any _demoiselle_ could prefer to eat her
food upon the beach. In fact, Chris had only carried the point because it
was her birthday, and naturally Mademoiselle had not been informed that
she had invited a guest to the meagre feast.

Chris, however, was quite content. With the serenity of childhood she was
sure there would be enough. She even told herself privately that it would
be the best birthday-party she had ever had. And Cinders was apparently
of the same opinion.

They raced nearly all the way to the rocks, spurred by the sight of a
familiar white figure awaiting them there. He came to meet them with his
customary courtesy, bare-headed, with shining eyes.

"Will you accept my good wishes?" he said, as he bent over her hand.

She laughed and thanked him. "I'm getting horribly old. Do you know I'm
seventeen? I shall have to put up my hair next year."

"I grieve to hear it," he protested.

"Never mind. It isn't next year yet. Have you remembered the lantern?
Where is it? No, I don't want any help, thank you. I balance best alone."

She was already skipping over the rocks with arms extended. He followed
her lightly, ready to give his hand at a moment's notice. But Chris was
very sure-footed, and though she allowed him to take her parcel, she
would not accept his assistance.

"I haven't brought anything to drink," she remarked presently, "I hope
you don't mind."

No, he minded nothing. Like herself, he was enjoying the treat to the
uttermost. He had not forgotten the lantern. It was waiting by the Magic
Cave. He begged that she would not hasten. The tide would not turn yet.

But Chris was in an impetuous mood. She wanted to start upon her
adventure without delay. Should they not explore first and have tea
after? It should be exactly as she wished, he assured her. Was it not her
_fete_?

But when at length she reached the shingle under the cliffs, she found a
surprise in store for her that made her change her mind.

A white napkin was spread daintily upon a flat-topped rock, and on this
were set a large pink and white cake and a box of _fondants_.

"Goodness!" ejaculated Chris.

"_Merveilleux_!" exclaimed the Frenchman.

She turned upon him. "Now, Bertie, you needn't pr