ssed through the yard, and on into the hay-field hard
by. The little ones were soon seated in groups on the soft, sweet hay,
and then the old mansion began to pour forth its inmates.

Servant-maids appeared with their gowns tucked up, carrying large cans
of hot tea, followed by men in livery with huge platters piled with
plum-cake, and stacks of bread-and-butter; and last, but by no means
least, the ancient housekeeper, and her special maids, with baskets of
fruit and jugs of rich golden cream. Then, last of all, from under the
old porch, appeared the mother and father and their two children, our
Willie and Alice. Little Alice looked so fair and pretty in her white
frock, blue sash, and blue shoes; and Willie's bright young face was
flushed with excitement and delight.

Then the Blackbird began to suspect what it all meant. It was Willie's
birthday; yes, he was five years old, and he had chosen, as his treat,
that all the village children should be invited to tea in the hay-field.
It was a great joy to Willie to hand round the cake and fruit, and to
watch the little faces aglow with happiness. Willie and Alice, and even
their mamma and papa, had tea in the hay-field, and Willie thought that
never before had even strawberries and cream been quite so delicious.

It was a lovely afternoon, and it was very pleasant to sit on the
newly-mown hay and listen to the birds singing in the trees. Of
course, the Blackbird could not resist going to see and, as far as
he could, share the fun, and he and his family had a private banquet of
their own: for it so happened that one plate of fruit had been put
behind a little hay-cock and then overlooked and forgotten, and there,
fearless of gardeners or nets, the Blackbirds devoured the last of the
strawberries.

After tea games were proposed, and the merry voices could be heard in
"blindman's buff," and "drop the handkerchief," until quite late into
the evening. By this time the fathers and mothers had arrived to look
after their children and take them home, and many were the kind words
and warm thanks expressed to Willie and Alice as their graceful little
figures went in and out among the groups as they said "good night."

At last little Alice was fairly tired out, so she was borne away by
Nurse Barlow, who announced it as her decided opinion that the children
would "get their deaths of cold, and both be laid up the next day."

Poor Mrs. Barlow had not enjoyed her afternoon. She had