CHAPTER XV

A FINE CELEBRATION

APRIL had only used up about a week of her showers and sunshine, and the Jinks Club feared she might send a few of her mischievous raindrops on their parade, but when the birthday came at last, the weather was quite as smiling as the faces of the six paraders.

The floats were finished, and though some were the least bit wobbly, their owners fondly hoped they would last through the line of march. Miss Hart had agreed to go over to call on Miss Larkin that afternoon, in order to insure the presence of the Birthday Lady at the right time.

Nurse Nannie promised to have Rosy Posy in gala attire, and ready to take her part in the festivities.

The fancy costumes had been taken over to Flip’s house, and Mrs. Henderson was quite willing to assist the little masqueraders in their toilettes.

Indeed, she said the children looked so pretty, it was too bad they were not going to be on exhibition at some bazaar or entertainment. Just at three o’clock the parade started.

Kingdon went first. He was a tall boy for his years, and so Mr. Henderson’s fur motor-coat just escaped touching the ground. The April sunshine was a bit warmish, but King valiantly encased himself in his furs, cap, earflaps, and all, and rather awkwardly stumbling along on his snowshoes, dragged his float behind him.

The float itself was beautiful. With Delight’s help, King had arranged an Arctic Region of cotton snowdrifts, from the centre of which rose a most imposing North Pole. This was white, also, and glistening with the tinsel frost that is used for Christmas trees. To its top was nailed the Stars and Stripes, and the flag fluttered proudly as the float wobbled along. A crowning glory was seen in good-sized lumps of real ice that nestled among the white drifts. And over these realistic glaciers clambered white “Teddy Bears,” of which Rosy Posy’s “Boffin” was perhaps the finest specimen. Also, an Eskimo doll, borrowed from the Maynard nursery, added local color to the scene.

The float would have done credit to a grown-up, and King pulled it proudly along, though hampered by his rather unmanageable snowshoes and cumbersome coat.

“Old King Cole, discovered the Pole,” chanted Delight, as King started down the Hendersons’ driveway, and then they all took up the refrain and repeated it with enthusiasm.

The second float was Delight’s. Fairies, of course, as they were her specialty. She was dressed as a fairy herself, and on her lovely golden hair rested a gilt paper crown, with tall points. A long gilt wand, with a star on the end, was her sceptre, and her frock of white tarlatan was made with many frills, and spangled with gilt stars. Two gauzy wings fluttered from her shoulders, and her white slippers showed a tiny gilt star on each.

“Oh, Delight,” cried Marjorie. “You do look too perfectly lovely for anything! Doesn’t she, Mrs. Henderson?”

“Yes, indeed,” returned that lady, smiling; “but you all look so lovely, it’s hard to choose among you.”

Delight pushed her float, instead of drawing it, for it was the wicker baby-carriage that she had borrowed; but so transformed, that not a speck of wicker could be seen. It was twined and draped with green and white tarlatan; from its wicker hood, or top, depended filmy curtains, which were tied back to afford a view of the fairy scene inside. Here, in a sort of little bower, were dolls dressed as fairies, dancing round in a magic ring.

But, dainty as they were, no doll was so sweet as Delight, herself, with her golden hair flying, and her pretty face smiling at the fun of it all.

Fairy bells hung round the edges of the float, and jingled as it rolled along.

Delight stepped slowly, lest she run into the North Pole, whose brave explorer floundered on, guiding his snowshoes as best he might.

Then, after the Fairy Float, came Dorothy, the Flower Girl.

Her mother had fixed up a charming costume from one of Dorothy’s own pretty little frocks, by sewing tiny artificial roses all over it. A wreath of flowers on her head made her look almost like a May Queen.

Her float, though not so ingenious as some, was quite as pretty as any.

The old-fashioned flower-stand, of green wire, was filled with growing spring flowers in pots, and the pots were concealed by smilax and asparagus fern. The body and wheels of the float were covered entirely with pink and white paper roses, and the whole effect was of a mass of blossoms.

Then came Kitty with her Mermaids. This float was the most ambitious of all, and though a success, it was liable to drop to pieces at any minute. Kitty had tried to represent the billowy ocean, and her waves were of dark-green cambric, with wires underneath to make the billows wave. On this uncertain sea were perched several mermaids. These were highly successful as works of art, for the spangled green tails, stuffed with sawdust, looked just like those shown in pictures, and the flaxen hair of the wax dolls’ heads was truly mermaidish.

Kitty, herself, proudly represented Undine. Some green tarlatan was draped over her white frock, and paper seaweed hung all over her. A wreath of artificial water-lilies was extremely becoming, and her long hair hung in a curly mass.

Altogether, Kitty’s float was wonderful, and she was optimistic enough to feel sure it would reach home in safety.

“Drive up near the North Pole, Kit,” sang out Flip; “then that jiggly green ocean of yours will freeze, and there’ll be no danger of its spilling over.”

“’Twon’t spill,” said Kitty, serenely, and Undine trundled her ocean along happily, while the mermaids swayed about, and would have fallen off, but that their tails were securely fastened to the wires.

After Kitty, came Marjorie. Her float was the Birthday Cake, and a fine show it made.

Like Dorothy’s, the float itself was covered closely with pink and white roses, for it was so easy to make paper roses, that they could have them by hundreds. And there is nothing prettier for fanciful decoration.

High up on a rose-covered soap-box sat the cake; white, and gilt-lettered, and wreathed about with fresh smilax. On it were the seventy-five candles, not lighted yet, and inside it nestled all the presents, tied in tissue paper and ribbons.

Midget, herself, wore a fancy costume she had once worn at a masquerade party.

It was a “Folly” dress, and was in blue and white stripes, with little bells on the pointed edges. There was a Folly cap with bells on, and the gay little garb was most becoming to merry Midget.

Last of all came Flip. His wheelbarrow was stunning in its red, white and blue draperies, and the Plaster Group of noble signers stood firmly in place as he trundled the vehicle along. Flip wore a Continental suit, and was supposed to represent George Washington, but as his white cotton-wool wig proved rather warm, and he was not so patient as King, he carried the wig and cocked hat under his arm, until he should reach the party.

And so, his round, freckled face, and somewhat obstreperous hair, surmounting the brass-buttoned blue coat, rather spoiled the illusion of the Father of our Country.

“Hey, you!” called out King, from the other end of the parade, “put on your head-rigging. You spoil the show!”

“Can’t help it,” Flip called back. “It’s too roasting hot! I’ll put it on when we get there.”

“Hot! pooh!” shouted King, in scorn. “What d’you think of me! I’m melting in this fur envelope, but I keep it on just the same!”

“All right, keep it on,” returned Flip, amicably, and the incident was closed.

Slowly, and thoroughly enjoying themselves, the parade moved down Broad Avenue.

People flew to the windows to watch them, or stepped out on their verandahs to see them go by. They received great applause, and many enthusiastic spectators begged them to stop a moment, or came out and walked by their side to examine the curious floats. At last, they turned into the Maynards’ place.

Flip hastily clapped on his wig and hat, and the parade marched up the drive.

“Ought to have had music!” exclaimed King. “Never thought of it till this minute!”

“Sing,” suggested Delight.

“All right; start her up.”

But asked so suddenly, Delight couldn’t think of anything appropriate. In a frantic attempt, however, to supply the desired music, she began “John Brown’s Body.”

Everybody joined in, lustily, and as the front door opened, and Miss Hart gently pushed the bewildered Miss Larkin forward, a rousing “Glory, glory, Hallelujah!” greeted her.

“What—what is it all?” cried the amazed lady, as right in front of her was a strange-looking figure much like a clumsy bear, trying to make a dancing-school bow, or rather, a dancing-bear bow, without tumbling over his snowshoes.

“Go on, King!” shouted Marjorie. “March round.”

So King went on, and the parade slowly went round the big oval of the Maynard front lawn two or three times.

Miss Larkin was fairly enraptured.

“For me! for my birthday!” she exclaimed, as Miss Hart explained it to her. “Why, I never saw anything so wonderful! Go round again, children, dear! Oh, you are fine!”

She clasped her hands in ecstasy, and Rosy Posy fairly screamed in delight.

At last, they lined up the floats in front of the verandah, and then the six, joining hands, repeated the birthday poem, which King had made up for the occasion. Kitty thought it wasn’t very poetical, but she had been too busy with her mermaids to make a poem herself, so they had all learned King’s. They didn’t sing it, but they recited it in such a sing-song voice, that it was just as good.

“Larky, Larky! Harky, Harky! To our Birthday ode. While we sing As we bring Presents, quite a load!”

It wasn’t very poetical, perhaps, but the enthusiasm of its recital so pleased Miss Larkin, that she wanted to have it repeated several times, and her request was obligingly granted.

“Now,” said Marjorie, “shall we have the presentation of gifts first, or the feast?”

“Gifts,” said practical Kitty; “then the supper, and then it will be time for the party to be over. If it isn’t, we can play games.”

“You see,” said Midget, who had sidled up to Miss Larkin, “we thought we disturbed your dinner party, when Mrs. Mortimer was here, so this is sort of to make up, you know.”

“You dear child!” exclaimed Miss Larkin. “You didn’t need to ‘make up,’ but this is the most wonderful birthday party I ever saw, and I can’t tell you how I appreciate it.”

“It’s a celebration,” explained Marjorie. “There are floats, you know, and altogether it’s a pageant, like they have in New York. Isn’t it grand! And the float that I dragged is your birthday cake. We’re going to take it in the house to open it.”

“And we don’t think you’re seventy-five years old,” broke in Kitty. “We know you’re not. But the candles stand for our ages, because we don’t want to be impolite to you.”

“Yes, that’s all right,” said Miss Hart, heading off any further allusions to the age of the lady who was receiving all this honor. “Now, let’s get the cake into the house. Where shall we put it?”

“Well,” said Midget, considering, “if we have the presents first, let’s open the cake before we go into the dining-room. So let’s take it into the living-room.”

“Right, oh!” exclaimed King, and he and Flip carried the big cake indoors and they all followed.

Marjorie and Kitty, as chief hostesses, each took Miss Larkin’s arm, and escorted her to a seat of honor.

“Now, Larky, Larky—harky, harky!” said King, with a flourish. “We hereby present you with this beautiful birthday cake, from your loving friends of the Jinks Club.”

King had discarded his fur coat and snowshoes, but he had grabbed a few garlands of paper flowers from Dorothy’s float, so that he would still look in festive array.

“I am overcome,” said Miss Larkin, who seemed really bewildered at this further compliment offered her.

“Of course you are!” rejoined King. “We expected you to be. We’d have been much disappointed if you hadn’t been overcome. Now, that’s all right, so please recover your equilibrium, and we’ll proceed to see what happens ‘when the pie was opened.’”

“Very well,” smiled Miss Larkin; “go ahead. I can stand it now.”

Then King and Flip lifted off the cover of the big box, and left exposed the great pile of dainty parcels. Everybody had a gift, and, of course, Miss Larkin had a great many.

Though not of great value, they were all dainty and pretty little souvenirs, and Miss Larkin had real tears in her eyes, as she received one after another.

“It’s like Christmas!” exclaimed Flip, as he smiled with pleasure at the box of fudge given him by Kitty.

“Don’t open it now,” warned King; “take it home with you; ’cause we’re going to the dining-room in a minute.”

“All right,” said Flip, “but it looks greedy not to pass it around.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Kitty; “’cause it’s your present. It only just happens to be a pass arounder. If it was a paper doll or a hair ribbon, you couldn’t pass it around. So—you see.”

“I see,” agreed Flip, laying the box aside, but he did feel a little embarrassed about it.

However, just then Sarah threw open the dining-room doors, and they all marched out. King offered his arm to Miss Larkin, and Flip followed, escorting Miss Hart, who, though not taking an active part, was of great assistance in her pleasant, unostentatious way. The girls followed, and Rosy Posy toddled along with them.

Ellen and Sarah had really outdone themselves in arranging an attractive feast. No one had helped them, but the experienced servants knew well just what to do.

In the centre of the table was a large, round birthday cake, which could really be eaten. It was covered with white frosting, and in pink frosting were the initials of Miss Larkin’s name, and the date of the day, with no reference to the year.

Dainty sandwiches were served first, with lemonade or milk, as the children chose.

Then there were little fancy cakes, and ice cream, and lovely jelly, and bon-bons, and nuts, and fruit, and every sort of delicacy that Ellen considered appropriate.

And then, as a final ceremony, the birthday cake was cut. Miss Larkin cut it herself, as was appropriate, and as she plunged the knife into the rich plum cake, she declared she was inspired to make a speech.

“Speech! Speech!” cried King, and they all clapped their hands and cheered.

“Dear children,” began Miss Larkin, “I think you are the dearest and best children I ever knew. I think it was sweet of you to do all this for me on my birthday, and I shall never forget it.”

That was all of the speech, and if it was simple and short, it was also most sincere and heartfelt.

The children were quiet for a moment—the earnest voice had made them a little serious—and then Flip said, “Three cheers for Miss Larkin!” and they gave them with a will.

As the noise subsided, Miss Larkin smiled and said:

“Three cheers for the Jinks Club!”

The club saw nothing incongruous in cheering themselves, so this cheer was as loud as the first.

Then, the hours had slipped away so fast, it was really time to go home, so the Jinks Club adjourned, after hearty good wishes and good-byes.

Thomas and James agreed to drag the floats back to Mr. Henderson’s barn, to stay there until the Jinksies could attend to them.

So, after the guests had gone, the jolly crowd in the Maynard home spent an enthusiastic hour in discussing every bit of the celebration all over again, and congratulating themselves on its splendid success.