Marjorie's Maytime. Wells Carolyn
"How would you like to imagine a whole May time that was all playtime?"
"For all of us?" rejoined Marjorie, her eyes dancing. "Oh, that would be a lovely imagination! It would be like an Ourday all the time! And by the way, Father, you owe us an extra Ourday. You know we skipped one when you and Mother were down South, and it's time for another anyway. Shall we have two together?"
"Two together!" cried King; "what fun that would be! We could go off on a trip or something."
"Where could we stay all night?" asked Kitty, who was the practical one.
"Oh, trips always have places to stay all night," declared King; "let's do it, Father. What do you say?"
"I don't get a chance to say much of anything, among all you chatter-boxes. Rosy Posy, what do you say?"
But the littlest Maynard was so nearly asleep that she had no voice in the matter under consideration, and at her father's suggestion, Nurse Nannie came and took her away to bed.
"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "what's all this about Ourday? And two of them together! When do you think I'm going to get my business done?"
"Well, but, Father, you owe them to us," said Marjorie, patting his cheek in her wheedlesome way. "And you're not the kind of a business man who doesn't pay his debts, are you?"
"I hope not; that would be a terrible state of affairs! And so I owe you two Ourdays, do I?"
"Yes, one for April, and one for May."
It was the custom in the Maynard household to have an Ourday each month. On these occasions both Mr. and Mrs. Maynard devoted themselves all day long to the entertainment of the four children, and the four took turns in deciding what the nature of the entertainment should be. Much of the previous month their parents had been away, and the children looked forward to the celebration of the belated Ourday in connection with the one that belonged to the month of May.
"Before we discuss the question further," said Mr. Maynard, "I must tell you of something I did to-day. I adopted a new pet."
"Oh, Father, what is it—a dog?" cried Marjorie.
"No, it isn't a dog; guess again."
"A cat!" Kitty guessed, while King said, "A goat?"
"Wrong, all of you," said Mr. Maynard; "now see if you can't guess it by asking twenty questions."
"All right," said Marjorie, who was always ready for a game. "Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?"
"All three; that is, it belongs to all three kingdoms."
"Is it a house?" asked Kitty.
"No, it is not as big as a house."
"Is it useful or ornamental?" asked King.
"Both; but its principal use is to give pleasure."
"How lovely!" cried Marjorie. "I guess it's a fountain! Oh, Father, where are you going to put it—on the side lawn? And will it have goldfish in it, and shiny stones, and green water plants growing in it?"
"Wait a minute, Mops; don't go so fast! You see, it isn't a fountain, and if you should put water and goldfish in it, you'd spoil it entirely."
"And any way, Father," said King, "you said it was a pet, didn't you?"
"Yes, my boy, a sort of pet."
"Can it talk?"
"No, it can't talk."
"Oh, I made sure it was a talking machine. What kind of a sound does it make?"
"Well, it purrs sometimes."
"Then it is a kitten after all," cried Kitty.
"No, it isn't a kitten. It's bigger than a kitten."
"An old cat!" said Marjorie, scornfully.
"Pooh," said King, "we'll never get at it this way. Of course it isn't a cat! Father wouldn't make so much fuss over just a cat."
"But I'm not making a fuss," protested Mr. Maynard; "I only told you I had adopted a new pet, and suggested you guess what it is. If you give up I'll tell you."
"I don't give up," cried Kitty; "what color is it?"
"Red," answered her father.
"Ho!" cried Kitty, with a sudden flash of inspiration, "it's an automobile!"
"Right you are, Kitsie," said her father, "though I don't know why you guessed it so quick."
"Well, nothing else is red and big. But why do you call it a pet? And how does it purr?"
"You're so practical, Kitty, it's difficult to make you understand; but I feel quite sure we'll all make a pet of it, and when you once hear it purr, you'll think it a prettier sound than any kitten ever made."
"Is it really an automobile, Father? And have you bought it? And shall we ride in it? Where is it? Where are you going to keep it? When will it come? How many will it hold? Where shall we ride first?"
These queries were flung at Mr. Maynard by the breathless children without waiting for answers, and as Mrs. Maynard came in just then, Mr. Maynard told the story of his new acquisition.
"I've been looking at them for some time, as you know, Helen," he said, looking at his wife, "and to-day I decided upon the purchase. It's a big touring car, and will comfortably accommodate the whole Maynard family and a chauffeur beside. It will arrive day after to-morrow, that's Monday, and after a few short spins around this neighborhood, I think by Thursday we may be able to start for an Ourday trip in it."
"A whole Ourday in an automobile!" cried Marjorie; "how gorgeous and grand! Oh, King, isn't it just splendiferous!"
Marjorie sprang to her feet, and grasped her brother round the neck, and they flew round the room in a sort of a wild Indian war-dance that went far to express their joy and delight at the prospect.
"Two Ourdays, you know, Father," said Kitty, nestling quietly to her father's side as her madcap brother and sister whirled round the room. But they brought up with a round turn, though a little dishevelled-looking, to hear Mr. Maynard's reply to Kitty's remark.
"Yes, two Ourdays at once!" Marjorie cried, affectionately pulling King's hair as she spoke. He returned the caress by pinching her ear, and said, "Will it be two Ourdays together, Father, or one at a time?"
"If you two young tornadoes will sit down quietly for a moment, you may hear of something to your advantage," said Mr. Maynard, smiling at his two eldest children who were rather red-faced and breathless from their recent exertions.
"Sure we will!" cried King, and drawing Marjorie down with him, they fell in a heap on the floor, and sat there awaiting further disclosures.
"You see," Mr. Maynard began, "as Marjorie says, Maytime is,—what?"
"Playtime," supplemented Marjorie, quickly.
"Well, then, if Maytime is playtime for the Maynards, why shouldn't we play all through the month of May?"
"Play every day,
All the month of May,
All the Maynards may
Play all day!
Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!"
sang Marjorie who often improvised her songs as she went along. This was not a difficult one to learn, and King and Kitty took up the refrain, and they sang it over and over with great gusto, until Mrs. Maynard begged for a respite.
"But of course you don't mean anything like that?" said Kitty, when the song had ceased.
"But that's just exactly what I do mean. What do you think of the plan of the Maynards going a-Maying in their own motor car, and taking the whole month of May for it?"
Marjorie's eyes opened wide. "I know what you mean!" she exclaimed; "you mean a tour—a tour through the country in an automobile! I've heard of such things!"
"Wise child!" said her father; "well, that's exactly what I do mean. A tour through the country in our own motor, and in our own Maytime. How does it strike you?"
"It strikes