dolls which they had
made out of pillows, tied round with string.

"You _dear_ children!" cried Midget; "I think you are lovely! Come along
to luncheon."

The "children" politely let King and Midget go first, and they followed,
giggling. Sarah, the waitress, was overcome with amusement, but she
managed to keep a straight face, as the comical-looking procession filed
in.

King and Marjorie appropriated their parents' seats, and the others sat
at the sides of the table.

"No, Helen, dear," said Midget, "you can't have any tea. It isn't good
for little girls. You may have a glass of milk, if you wish."

"I don't think these lobster croquettes are good for Jack," said King,
looking wisely at Midget; "they're very rich, and he's subject to
indigestion."

"I am not!" declared Cousin Jack, looking longingly at the tempting
croquettes, for which Ellen was famous.

"There, there, my child," said Marjorie; "don't contradict your father.
Perhaps he could have a half of one, King."

"Yes, that would scarcely make him ill," and King gave Cousin Jack a
portion of one small croquette, which he ate up at once, and found to be
merely an aggravation.

"Oh, no! no pie for Edward," said Marjorie, when a delicious lemon
meringue made its appearance. "Pie is entirely unsuitable for children!
He may have a nice baked apple."

And Mr. Maynard was plucky enough to eat his baked apple without a
murmur, for he remembered that often he had advised Mrs. Maynard against
giving the children pie.

To be sure, the pie would not harm the grown people, but Mr. Maynard had
agreed to "play the game," and it was his nature to do thoroughly
whatever he undertook.

CHAPTER XIX

MORE FUN

"Now, Helen," said Marjorie, as they left the dining-room, "you must
practise for an hour."

"Oh, Mother, I don't feel a bit like it! Mayn't I skip it to-day?"

This was, in effect, a speech that Marjorie often made, and she had to
laugh at her mother's mimicry.

But she straightened her face, and said, "No, my child; you must do your
practising, or you won't be ready for your lesson when the teacher comes
to-morrow."

"All right, Mother," said Mrs. Maynard, cheerfully, and sitting down at
the piano, she began to rattle off a gay waltz.

"Oh, no, Helen," remonstrated Marjorie, "that won't do! You must play
your scales and exercises. See, here's the book. Now, play that page
over and over for an hour."

Marjorie did hate those tedious "exer