down
at the subjects who had served her so faithfully that day.

"Have you had a good time, Marjy?" asked King William; who stood below,
with his royal nose on a level with her majesty's two dusty little
shoes.

"Oh, Billy, it has been just splendid! But I don't see why you should
all be so kind to me," answered Marjorie, with such a look of innocent
wonder, that Billy laughed to see it.

"Because you are so sweet and good, we can't help loving you,--that's
why," he said, as if this simple fact was reason enough.

"I'm going to be the best girl that ever was, and love everybody in the
world," cried the child, stretching out her arms as if ready, in the
fulness of her happy heart, to embrace all creation.

"Don't turn into an angel and fly away just yet, but come home, or
granny will never lend you to us any more."

With that, Billy jumped her down, and away they ran, to ride gayly back
through the twilight, singing like a flock of nightingales.

As she went to bed that night, Marjorie looked at the red bank, the
pretty picture, and the daisy crown, saying to herself,--

"It has been a VERY nice birthday, and I am something like the girl in
the story, after all, for the old man gave me a good-luck penny, the
kind lady told me how to keep happy, and Billy came for me like the
prince. The girl didn't go back to the poor house again, but I'm glad
_I_ did, for MY granny isn't a cross one, and my little home is the
dearest in the world."

Then she tied her night-cap, said her prayers, and fell asleep; but the
moon, looking in to kiss the blooming face upon the pillow, knew that
three good spirits had come to help little Marjorie from that day forth,
and their names were Industry, Cheerfulness, and Love.

ROSES AND FORGET-ME-NOTS

I. ROSES

It was a cold November storm, and everything looked forlorn. Even the
pert sparrows were draggle-tailed and too much out of spirits to fight
for crumbs with the fat pigeons who tripped through the mud with their
little red boots as if in haste to get back to their cosy home in the
dove-cot.

But the most forlorn creature out that day was a small errand girl, with
a bonnet-box on each arm, and both hands struggling to hold a big broken
umbrella. A pair of worn-out boots let in the wet upon her tired feet; a
thin cotton dress and an old shawl poorly protected her from the storm;
and a faded hood covered her head.

The face that looked out from this hood was t