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

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

"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 for
this sad state of affairs was that no one could think of a name good
enough for her. She was so beautiful and so lovely and sweet-tempered
that every name seemed commonplace, and the King and Queen who were her
parents offered a great reward to any one who would suggest a name that
seemed appropriate. But, though they proposed every name that was known,
and made up a great many more, none seemed to suit, and so the Princess
grew up without any name at all. But one day her grandmother gave her a
lovely little writing-desk for a birthday present. The Princess was
delighted, and immediately she learned to write letters. But, strange to
say, she never received any answers to the letters she sent. Days
passed, and weeks passed, but nobody answered the letters. She went to
the Court Wise Man, and said to him:

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

"'Oh, Princess!' said the Court Wise Man, 'it is because you have no
name, and, though they have already written letters to you, they know
not how to address them. For how can one address a letter to a nameless
person?'

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

"So she sat down, and thought deeply for a long time, and then she
jumped 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 the
ends of ribbon that hung from his side of the spool.

CHAPTER XIX

A SPOOL OF YARNS

Mr. Maynard pulled the ribbon of which Kitty held the other end, and the
little girl jumped as she felt the ribbon move in her hand. But Kitty
was usually ready for an emergency.

"Violetta Evangeline," she said. "The Prince