that afternoon!"

Dot came next, walking composedly, and she gave them "Twinkle,
twinkle, little star," her old stand-by; that was one verse Dot was
always sure of.

When Twaddles' turn came he bowed, thought for a full minute, and then
launched into the Mother Goose rhyme of "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin
Eater."

"Pumpkins are for Thanksgiving," he assured Aunt Polly anxiously, in
case she should think his selection strange.

"Of course they are!" she cried, drawing Twaddles into her lap and
hugging him. "I suspect Jud is packing the largest he can find into a
box now to send us for our pies."

Meg had been upstairs and put on one of her summer white dresses, too
short in the skirt and too tight in the sleeves, for Meg, as Mother
Blossom had said, was growing very fast.

"You just ought to see the dress Miss Florence is making me, Aunt
Polly," Meg said, her blue eyes shining. "It has two tucks in the
skirt, and puff sleeves----"

"And a pink sash," chimed in Dot.

"Well, what about your piece?" asked Father Blossom. "You don't
suppose there is any danger that you'll march up on the platform
Wednesday afternoon and recite a verse about pink sashes and tucks, do
you, instead of Thanksgiving?"

Meg was sure she wouldn't do that, and to prove it, she recited her
whole five verses very nicely, and with no mistake.

"She has gestures--Mother showed her how," said Bobby, very proud of
his pretty sister. "I don't like to wave my hands, but I like to watch
other people do it."

A few days before the all-important Wednesday Miss Florence
telephoned--she had a telephone in her house now that she could not go
out--and said that Meg's dress was finished. When Bobby and Meg came
home from school at noon for lunch, Mother Blossom told them to go
around by Miss Florence's house that afternoon and get the frock.

"Dear, dear, if I'm not stupid," fussed Miss Florence, folding the
crisp, dainty folds of the dress a few minutes after the children had
rung her bell and announced they were to take the package. "Here I've
gone and saved this nice box for it, and it hasn't a lid. If I lay
sheets of tissue paper over it and pin them carefully, do you think
you can carry it?"

"Sure I can," said Bobby. "You don't need a cover, Miss Florence. Come
on, Meg."

"Be careful and don't drop it," warned Miss Florence, hobbling on her
lame ankle to the door to watch them down the steps. "Isn't it a
miserable day out!"

Meg and Bobby didn