they do in the market."

"Huh! There you go again," sniffed Tim. "All girls seem to think of is
necklaces and bows of ribbon."

Mary smiled brightly.

"What's the harm in making it pretty if you can just as well?" asked
she. "I do love pretty things. Why, I believe I could eat stewed whale
if it was on a pretty dish."

"I couldn't; I'd hate whale," responded the stolid Timothy.

"Oh, I didn't mean I'd really eat whale, silly," explained Mary.

"Then what did you say you would for?"

"Mary was just imagining, dear," put in Mrs. McGregor, coming to the
rescue.

"She is always imagining," glowered Tim. "Only the other day she was
trying to make me imagine my salt fish was chicken."

"I'll bet she didn't succeed," taunted Carl.

"Not on your life she didn't!" was the instant answer. "I know salt
fish when I see it."

"No matter, dear," soothed Mrs. McGregor, affectionately touching her
daughter's arm. "If her imagining Mary can convert salt fish into
chicken it is an asset that will stand her in good stead all through
life. And if you, Tim, prefer to keep your salt fish just salt fish,
why you have a perfect right to do so. I will say, however, that the
person who has the power to make believe has an invaluable gift. Many's
the time I've made believe and it has helped me over more than one hard
spot. We all have to masquerade to a greater or less degree. It is
simply meeting life with imagination and seeing in the humdrum
something that associates it with finer and more beautiful things." For
a moment she was silent; then she added in her quick, businesslike
accents, "And now to this dinner! There must be a basket to hold it, of
course."

"A big market basket, Mother, lined with red paper. Do line it with
red," pleaded Mary.

"It shall be lined with red, little lady! And trimmed with holly, too!"
replied Uncle Frederick. "I will undertake to furnish both decorations
along with the turkey."

"Why not put in Santa Claus napkins? I saw some paper ones the other
day and they were tremendously festive," suggested Mrs. McGregor.

"I think the best plan is for us all to go together and buy the
dinner," the Captain suddenly announced.

Shouts of approval greeted the plan.

"But the baby!" demurred his sister.

"We can wheel James Frederick in the carriage and take turns staying
outside the shops with him," said Carl.

"And if we have the carriage we can bring home our stuff in it," put in
Tim.

"Poor bab