Part 8

“Andromeda and Perseus took Little Bear and went off a little way, while Orion placed the other Star People in two lines that led up to Cassiopeia’s Chair. She and Cepheus stood at the head of the lines, on either side of the chair. And then they began to sing Andromeda’s Birthday Song:—

“The stars sang together at the little maiden’s birth; They watched her through the years Of gladness and of tears; And they said: ‘She’ll come to dwell with us when she shall leave the Earth.

“‘She shall bring an earthly blessing in which we have no part; We can only shine by night, When the sun has sunk from sight; She shall bring the sunshine with her—though it’s hidden in her heart!’

“A thousand, thousand greetings to the maiden, ever young! As the years the birthdays bring, The stars together sing The praise of maid the sweetest whose praise was ever sung!

“As the Star People sang, Perseus led Andromeda slowly up to them. Little Bear walked ahead; and he was so proud and, at the same time, so excited, that he hardly knew whether he wanted to walk in a very dignified way, or to prance and dance. The consequence was, he did both. Every few steps, he made a funny little skip; then he was so embarrassed to think he had done it that he’d rub his paw over his nose, and almost tip over, because he was walking along all the time.

“How they did laugh at him! all but Andromeda; she looked very serious and grave, because it was a Ceremony. As she walked, with her hand in Perseus’, between her friends to the chair where her father and mother stood waiting for her, she was so sweet and modest and stately—like a little queen—that no one who saw her could have helped loving her.

“There was no doubt how Cepheus and Cassiopeia felt about it, when she stopped before them, and Perseus and Little Bear stepped back; then she clasped her hands and recited, in her clear, fresh voice, her little verse:—

“With heartfelt joy and thankfulness, I come to you, that you may bless Your happy child to-day. You, whom I owe all reverence And love and prompt obedience, Accept them now, I pray!

“A father-and-mother kiss on one’s birthday isn’t the gayest part of it, but we know it’s the best—don’t we, Kitten?—and Andromeda is the only Star Person who can have it. That is one reason why they love to keep her birthday; it can be so complete.

“Cassiopeia and Cepheus placed Andromeda in the great chair, and the Star People came, one by one, and knelt and kissed her hand, then fastened a star-daisy in her hair—they kissed her pretty pink cheek too, when they had done it; but that was just love and extra, not part of the ceremony; so they made her a beautiful crown, and she looked more like a queen than ever.

“When this was over she stepped down from the chair and took Perseus’ hand, and, with Little Bear ahead once more, they went down the Sky. Orion followed with Maia; then Castor and Taygeta, and Pollux and Alcyone. Hercules took Merope, because she was so gentle and never laughed at him. That left three of the Pleiades girls,—Electra, Celeno, and Sterope,—but Draco said: ‘That’th all right. I gueth I can walk with three girlth. I’m long enough!’ How they squealed and giggled! But that was the way they arranged it; and Cepheus and Cassiopeia came at the end of the procession.”

“Where was it going?” asked Pat.

“First, they were going all around the Zodiac to carry greetings to the people who were shut up. They always did it on birthdays, and they liked that part, but it took a good while, and this time Orion was impatient to have it over. He wanted to have them come to his especial share of the party.

“And at last they came in sight of his garden; and Little Bear skipped the funniest prance yet, when he saw what was waiting for them. This was what Orion was talking about the night before, to Lady Moon.” The Princess stopped just long enough to let the Others wonder what it could be.——

“A moonbow,” began the Princess, and the Others said, “Oh-h!”

“A moonbow,” she repeated, “isn’t so gayly colored as a rainbow, but it is shinier, and the most delightful thing you can imagine, to sit on, to see a meteor party. And kind Lady Moon stood with her lantern behind the edge of a cloud, so that the light shouldn’t interfere with the meteors, and held the bow steady, exactly in the best place.

“Cassiopeia declared she never could walk up; but she did—to the top, and sat down, with Little Bear cuddled up by her side with his toes straight out in front of him, between her and Andromeda. The others settled themselves on either side—all except Hercules and Draco. Draco would have taken too much room; and Hercules said:—

“‘I guess I’ll stay here. If that cloud should happen to flop around, that thing would go out like winkin’. I’ve seen ’em do it.’

“The Pleiades girls shrieked, and pretended they were coming down; and Draco said: ‘Never mind. I’ll catth you if it meltth.’

“‘You sit still,’ said Orion. ‘That moonbow is there to stay. Lady Moon and I know about that.’ But they never meant to get down; they only liked to make a fuss.—What is it, Kitten?” The Princess could tell, by the way she wriggled, when she wanted to know something.

She held her foot tight and rocked on her tucked-under leg when she asked it: “Was the Bee Baby too young to invite?”

“He would have been rather young for a party; but that wasn’t the reason he didn’t come. This birthday was before there was any Bee Baby. Little Bear was the only child they had.”

“All right,” said the Kitten. “Then what did they do?”

“At last, when they were all settled on the moonbow, Orion went into his garden. He stooped over one of the bushes, very carefully, lest he should rub against some of the others, and gave just the right kind of a pinch,—then, ‘Ah-h,’ said the Star People, as a lovely meteor flew up—up, over their heads, leaving a little trail of gold-dust behind it.

“That was the beginning; and Orion had good reason to be proud of his garden, for each meteor seemed lovelier than the last. They couldn’t decide whether the blue ones were prettier than the red or the green; or those that flew in straight lines than those that flew in spirals, they were all so beautiful.

“So it went on with hardly a mishap. Almost every meteor was just ripe, and Orion joggled only two so that they went off too soon; and he had come to the last two bushes. They stood side by side and were the finest in the garden; that was why he had saved them for the last.

“‘What are those dogs after?’ asked Cepheus. Orion had left them with Sagittarius, in the Zodiac, for fear of accidents.

“‘Where?’ called Orion, who couldn’t see from the garden, so well as they from the moonbow.

“‘There they come,’ said Cassiopeia, and they all craned their necks to see.

“‘Yap! yap!’ cried the dogs, and on they came; and just ahead of them—barely out of reach—was—? A comet, of course! What else could it be? It was only a scrap of a comet, with a stub of a tail, and how it was scrabbling along!

“It was heading straight by, when it saw Orion standing by his meteor bushes; and what did that bad, mischievous little comet do, but turn square off, with a flirt of his saucy tail under the dogs’ noses, and make directly for the two bushes! Straight after it came the dogs—and three Orions couldn’t have stopped them, they hated a comet so—and rip—smash! they ran right through the bushes, and thirty meteors at once flew up in one splendid blaze!

“Orion’s first thought was that it was a misfortune, and spoiled the end of his party. But Cassiopeia said, as soon as she could get her breath: ‘I think that was perfectly splendid! And you never would have had the heart to send them all off at once, like that!’

“‘Yes, indeed!’ said every one else; and Orion thought so, too.”

“I’d rather,” said Pat. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Much rather,” agreed the Princess. “Who would choose deliberately to have a party fizzle out, when it might go in

a blaze of glory? It was time to go home, anyway; so they climbed down from the moonbow.

“‘Oh, hasn’t this been the loveliest party we ever had?’ said Andromeda.

“‘Yes, it has,’ said Merope. ‘And I know who has enjoyed it more than anybody.’

“‘Who?’

“‘Little Bear.’

“Andromeda turned and dropped on her knees beside him to give him a hug, and his eyes twinkled like stars.

“‘Bless his little heart!’ said Cassiopeia. ‘I wish we could keep his birthday, but nobody knows when it is.’

“‘But we love him just the same!’ said Andromeda, rubbing his fur the wrong way and ending with a little shake of his nose—and the sparks flew as if he were a garden of meteors himself. And that was really the end of the party.”

The Kitten had something in her mind to do at once when she was perfectly sure the party was over. For that very minute when the Princess came to the end and Pat and Miss Phyllisy began to talk about it, she slipped her foot out from under her to have it ready to walk on. And the next minute, when Phyllisy looked around to see why the child wasn’t talking too, when it was rather especially her story, she was already starting away—and she didn’t care to tell what for.

Because they wondered, and they knew she wouldn’t mind—it was only that she didn’t like to explain—they followed after. When she was clear away, the Kitten began to run, so when they came to the place in the garden where the balsams grew all in a row, she was there and had found a ripe one.

There were very few flowers left, and a great many seedpods, and when they pinched them at the tip—or only barely touched them—they popped delightfully, but there didn’t any star shoot out.

But they pretended there did; and—as Miss Phyllisy remarked—you couldn’t see actual fireworks if you set them off with the sun shining like that.

IX A SURPRISE PARTY

It seemed to the Others that the Princess was a _long_ time coming. And once they had been afraid they wouldn’t be ready in time. But they were—too soon, and it was the watching that made it seem so long. They _flew_ when they saw her, and hurried her along.

“It’s something to surprise you,” said Miss Phyllisy.

“We did it all this morning,” added Pat.

“Thought of it and gathered them and everything,” chattered the Kitten, walking on all sides of them.

“Don’t you tell,” warned Pat’s eyebrows.

“You couldn’t guess, could you?” asked the Kitten.

“Now stop; from here,” said Phyllisy, “shut your eyes and we’ll lead you so you won’t see too soon.”

So the Princess shut her eyes, and Pat and Phyllisy led her and the Kitten went ahead over the lawn until they said, “Now, open!”

Directly before them was the great wicker chair from the piazza, sitting under a tree. But nobody would have known it was that chair at all—so trimmed and flowery.

There were pink and purple and white ones from the garden, and tall plumes of small feathery ones, that were wild ones, nodding on the back, and all lovely.

“Do you notice what they are?” asked Phyllisy. “We wouldn’t have any other kind.”

“Do you know why we had that kind?” asked Pat.

“They’re _stars_!” cried the Kitten.

“Because you said ‘asters’ meant stars,” said Phyllisy.

“And it’s Cassiopeia’s!—For you!” they all finished. “Do you like it?”

And the Princess reached around and gathered them all into one four-sided hug, because how she loved it she couldn’t otherwise tell. And Cassiopeia’s never had a quarter so many stars. “We didn’t leave one in the garden,—large enough to pick,” said Pat.

“That’s where you’re going to sit to tell the story,” said the Kitten.

“And when you’re ready, we’ll lead you up to it, and make ‘salaams,’” said Miss Phyllisy.

When she had admired more particularly the way they had done it, she was ready, and they went off to the next tree to come back properly, Pat and Miss Phyllisy leading the Princess, and the Kitten holding up her gown behind.

Then the Princess turned around and stood in front of the chair, and the Others stood facing her in a row.

“Salaam alekûm,” said the Princess, bowing very low and saluting with her down-dropped hand from her feet, to her heart, to her forehead, in two scallops.

“Alekûm essalaam,” replied the Others, saluting the same to her.

And to the Princess and Miss Phyllisy and the Kitten it was a kind of game they played, but it was not play at all to Pat. Even the little children said, “My compliments to you,” like that, where she came from.

“This story begins with Perseus and Andromeda sitting in a favorite place of theirs, where three tall poplars grow on the bank of the Starland River,” the Princess announced when she had taken her seat.

“The three sisters that were changed into them?” asked Phyllisy.

The Princess nodded. “Must have been.”

“Is it a real river?” asked Pat. “Like any river?”

“Like all the most beautiful rivers in the world in one, only changed into star-meanings—fireflies winking among the reeds, and fairy trees along the banks, with strange glowing fruit and blossoms on their shadowy branches. The poplars carry theirs proudly on their tops, like a crown.”

“It’s something Beyond, isn’t it, Dearie?—to understand just what it’s like,” suggested Phyllisy, “you have to know it inside, and stop.”

“That’s the only way,” said the Princess. “It’s gone in the telling—like fairy gold when you touch it. But the river was there in Starland, and there were Perseus and Andromeda having a cosy talk.

“‘What do you suppose ails Little Bear, to make him act so?’ said she.

“‘How does he act?’ asked Perseus.

“‘I don’t see how you could have helped noticing him. It’s ever since my birthday. He hops when he walks, and looks so important; and lately he has taken to going off by himself—nobody knows where. I believe he’s planning something.’

“‘Let’s watch him, and find out what it is.’

“‘Yes. That’s what I spoke about it for. But we mustn’t let him guess we are watching. It would spoil his fun.’

“‘Of course not,’ said Perseus.

“A few nights later, Perseus beckoned mysteriously to Andromeda. She was listening to old Aquarius. She often went to visit him, and it pleased him even more than it bored her, so she liked to do it.

“But when she saw Perseus, she made her escape as quickly as she could, and came to him.

“‘What is it?’ she whispered.

“‘Little Bear has just gone again. I saw him coming toward Orion’s garden. Orion was there, and Little Bear pretended he was going by—not anywhere in particular. Then Orion came out of the garden and went toward Sagittarius’ House, and Little Bear turned in, quick as a wink, and went through and on—down the Milky Way.’

“‘Come, quick!’ said Andromeda. ‘Are you sure you know which way he went?’

“‘Yes. We’ll find him easily enough.’

“Orion had come back to his garden, but they were in such haste they didn’t even see that he was there. He watched them whisk through, and as they were going out at the farther side, he called to them: ‘Did you come to see me?’

“‘No,’ answered Perseus. ‘What makes you think we did?’

“‘Because you are in my garden.’

“‘We aren’t now,’ said Andromeda over her shoulder—pushing Perseus ahead of her. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

“‘No. Only you might say good-evening.’

“‘We do,’ she called. ‘But we can’t stop now.’

“So she and Perseus ran on, and before long they caught sight of Little Bear. They crept cautiously nearer, where they could watch him unseen. He was hunting for something.

“‘What do you suppose it is?’ whispered Andromeda.

“‘I can’t make out—wait—there! What’s that he’s found?’

“‘It’s a meteor bush,’ said she.

“Little Bear stopped by the bush—looked at it—looked around him; then he trotted on—hunting for something.

“They watched him find another bush—and another; and each time look back and forth. It was very mysterious.

“‘He is fixing the places in his mind, so that he can come back to them again!’ exclaimed Andromeda.

“‘That’s it,’ agreed Perseus. ‘I wonder what for.’

“‘We’ll find out.—Be careful! He’s coming home.’

“They kept close until Little Bear had trotted by them and was out of sight. Then they went themselves to examine the bushes. But that didn’t help them to understand. They were the ordinary kind of wild meteors that never grow very large; and they were still quite green.

“So they gave up puzzling about it, and went back to be civil to Orion. But when he wanted to know why they were in such a hurry, they were so mysterious he thought they had a secret; and he never guessed that the secret was Little Bear’s, and one reason why they wouldn’t tell was because they didn’t know it themselves!

“They began to think they never were going to know, for Little Bear didn’t go off again and gave them no chance to find out.”

“I thought I knew, once,” said Miss Phyllisy. “But I don’t know so well now. Can you guess, Pat?”

Pat shook her head. “No. But she’ll tell us.” And the Princess went on to tell them, in her own way:—

“Cepheus awoke one night, the first of the Star People. As he turned his head quickly, something bobbed against his forehead; and he could see—out of the tail of his eye—something dangling that moved when he did. He took off his crown and looked at it. There was a rather wilted green meteor tucked into it. He knew he didn’t put it there himself, but he didn’t take it out, and while he was thinking about it, Draco woke.

“He gave his wings a flap to see that the joints worked right, and something fell out of the fold of one of them. What should it be but a little green meteor with a very short stem!

“‘That’th funny,’ he said. Then he stuck it on one of the sharp prongs of his wing, and came over to Cepheus.

“‘Thee what I’ve got,’ he said.

“‘So have I,’ said Cepheus. ‘Where did they come from?’

“‘Maybe it’th a joke. Do you thuppoth any one elth hath them?—I’m going to look.’

“‘Cathiopeia hath!’ he called, in a whisper. ‘Right on the arm of her chair bethide her.’

“Cepheus was perfectly willing to have some one else do the running about; so he waited, and in a few minutes Draco came back to him.

“‘Every thingle perthon around here hath one,’ he said. ‘Herculeth’ ith thtuck into the crook of hith thumb where he’th holding hith club; and Pertheuth’ hath two thnakes twithted around it on hith Gorgon’th head.’

“But the time was gone by to discuss it quietly, for Cassiopeia was awake. By chance, her meteor was the first thing her eye rested upon.

“‘What is that?’ she said to herself, and picked it up. ‘I’d like to know where that came from. _See here!_’ she called to Cepheus, and her voice began to sound excited. ‘Look at that!’

“He came toward her, and Draco followed him. ‘What is it?’ he asked, pretending not to know.”

“To be funny?” asked Pat.

“Yes. Cepheus was a bit of a wag in his way. ‘Can’t you see?’ Cassiopeia asked impatiently. ‘A little wilted green meteor!’

“‘What of it? It won’t hurt you.’

“‘Of course it won’t! But how did it come here?’

“‘You must have put it there yourself, to decorate.’

“‘Now you know better. Wouldn’t I know it if—Why! _You’ve got one yourself!_’ she almost shrieked.

“‘Have I?’ asked Cepheus, innocently.

“‘There—in your crown!’ and she pointed to it. And Draco could not keep still another second.

“‘We’ve all got them!’ he cried. Then Cassiopeia knew they had been pretending—to make sport of her; and that was the time everybody else had to wake up!”

“It was Little Bear put them,” said the Kitten.

“That was the very person. And Andromeda guessed it at once. But even she couldn’t guess _why_. So she chose to wait a little before she spoke. Perseus must have forgotten, or it took him longer to wake up; but suddenly it occurred to him too. Andromeda pulled his elbow just as the word was at his lips. ‘Don’t say anything,’ she whispered. ‘Look at Little Bear!’

“Perseus looked; and it was hard not to laugh. Little Bear did laugh—in his own way. He twinkled! He was close by Cassiopeia’s chair, and fairly bursting with importance and excitement, but he was so little they quite overlooked him.

“Cassiopeia went straight on talking.

“‘I want to understand it,’ she said. ‘It seems as if it must mean something, and I can’t see one bit of sense in it,—just little green meteors that won’t go off. What are they for?’

“‘Little Bear knows,’ said Andromeda, quickly. She was afraid his feelings would be hurt to hear his meteors spoken of disrespectfully.

“‘Little Bear!’ cried Cassiopeia; and the Star People fell back in a circle and left him in the centre, the twinkles running over his fur as he laughed inside and shook with excitement.

“‘Little Bear,’ said Cassiopeia, ‘did you do it?’

“Little Bear’s eyes danced with delight; then he buried his nose in Cassiopeia’s dress.

“‘Of course he did,’ said Perseus. ‘We saw him hunting for them.’

“‘But what is it _for_?’ she insisted.

“‘I know—I know!’ cried Draco. ‘Don’t you know what night thith ith? It’th the night Little Bear got hith Thtar!’

“‘And he means it instead of a birthday!’ cried Cassiopeia. ‘Don’t you remember? We said we’d keep it if we knew when it was.’

“Andromeda was on her knees beside Little Bear, her arms around him, when Orion and the Pleiades girls arrived—each with a little green meteor—to know what it meant. Then how they did chatter!—a regular Star People’s chorus.

“‘Now, wasn’t that the cleverest Little Bear you ever heard of?’ said Maia. ‘Just think of his picking them all with his little nose, for us.’

“‘And tucking them in where we’d be sure to find them,’ said Alcyone.

“‘I wish I’d seen him traveling back and forth while we were asleep,’ said Orion. ‘How many times do you suppose he went through my garden?’

“‘If we knew how many he brought at onthe, we could tell,’ said Draco. ‘Jutht count how many there are of uth.’

“It seemed as if they never would make an end of petting Little Bear and praising his cleverness, and wondering what he thought they could do with those silly, useless little meteors; but they were careful not to let him hear them say they were of no use. But when they had said it all again and again, Merope thought it was time to do something better.

“‘What shall we do for the party?’ she asked.

“They were troubled then; they would have liked to do something very particular, and it was hard to think of anything without taking time to plan. Cassiopeia advised them to put it off, but—to their astonishment—Hercules objected. He wouldn’t listen to any such word.

“‘We aren’t going to do anything of the kind,’ he said. ‘After that Little Bear has worked like that, and given something to every one of us, he’s going to have his party the same night, and not be kept waiting.’

“‘Very well,’ said Orion. ‘You plan it.’

“‘I will. Maybe it won’t be much; but it’ll be _now_.’

“‘It’s a surprise party, to have you plan it,’ suggested Andromeda. ‘And they’re always fun.’

“‘What shall we do?’ asked Electra.

“‘We’ll go to the Ship,’ announced Hercules, ‘and Little Bear shall be Captain. I guess we can have a pretty good party, if we haven’t been thinking about it.’

“The Star-Ship was across the river; and Hercules often went there, because it reminded him of a voyage he had taken before he was a Star Person, but they seldom went there together. So, only to go was a frolic.”

“Did they go in a procession?” asked the Kitten.

“Yes, just as they did on birthdays, and explained to the Zodiac People how they were celebrating because Little Bear had his Star. He marched at the head, and you can fancy whether he felt proud. They pretended they were a party of adventurers setting out on a cruise, and they took Castor and Pollux along with them.

“They crossed the river by the tall poplar trees and came to the splendid Ship. The stern went up high in a beautiful quirl, and the figure on the prow was the head of a woman.”