tch the King as each one came and kneeled before
him as he presented his gift. He never seemed to notice whether the
gift was great or small; he regarded not one gift above another so
long as all were white. Never had the King been so happy as he was
that day and never had such real joy filled the hearts of the people.
They decided to use the same plan every year, and so it came to pass
that year after year on the King's birthday the people came from here
and there and everywhere and brought their white gifts--the gifts
which showed that their love was pure, strong, true and without stain,
and year after year the King sat in his white robes on the white
throne in the great white room and it was always the same--he regarded
not one gift above another so long as all were _white_.

HER BIRTHDAY DREAM[*]

By Nellie C. King

Marcia Brownlow came out of the church, and walked rapidly down the
street. She seemed perturbed; her gray eyes flashed, and on her cheeks
glowed two red spots. She was glad she was not going home, so she
wouldn't have to take a car, but could walk the short distance to Aunt
Sophy's, where she had been invited to dine and visit with her special
chum, Cousin Jack--who was home from college for the short
Thanksgiving vacation. She slowed up as she reached her destination,
and waited a little before going in--she wanted to get calmed down a
bit, for she didn't want her friend to see her when she felt so "riled
up." Back of it was a secret reluctance to meet Jack--he was so
different since the Gipsy Smith revival; of course, he was perfectly
lovely, and unchanged toward her, but--somehow, she felt uncomfortable
in his presence--and she didn't enjoy having her self-satisfaction
disturbed.

As she entered the dining-room, she was greeted with exclamations of
surprise and pleasure.

"Why, Marcia!" said Aunt Sophia; "we had given you up! I almost never
knew of your being late in keeping an appointment."

"You must excuse me, Auntie; and lay this offense to the charge of our
Sunday school superintendent," answered Marcia.

"I suppose Mr. Robinson is laying his plans for Christmas," remarked
Uncle John. "He believes in taking time by the forelock--and a very
commendable habit it is, too."

"Yes," answered Marcia laconically.

Jack glanced at her keenly. "Is there anything new in the Christmas
line?" he asked.

The gray eyes grew black, and the red spots burned again, as Marcia
replied: "Well,