ven with her away," Eric comforted.
"Oh, goody! I do hope so!"

"Perhaps. Anyway I'm going to pretend there's a party waiting for me
to-morrow. You pretend too, Eric, and then even if it doesn't come true
we will have had the pretending at least."

Eric agreed to pretend. It was one of his favorite games. And very soon
the two children nestled down under their covers and drifted into sleep
and dreams of a party.

They were roused early in the morning by something tapping lightly on
the doors and windows. Eric was out of bed first, and saw the Wind
Creatures, half a dozen or more of them, looking in and beckoning. Their
purple wings gleamed gold in the early morning sun. Wild Star was
standing in the open door.

"Happy birthday!" he cried and tossed a snow ball into Ivra's bed. She
popped to her knees, laughing and rosy with sleep. But then she was
grave in a minute. "There's to be no party, Wild Star," she said.
"Mother's not back yet. Are you all here for that?"

"Yes, we're here for that, and there is to be a party, an all day one
too. Your Forest Friends have seen to that."

The children were radiant with joy. And Ivra whispered to Eric, "We had
our pretending, too!"

The Wind Creatures would not come in to breakfast, for of course they do
not like in-doors at all, and besides, they need very little food. So
they played in the garden while the children dressed and ate. Very soon
the children were done, though, and came leaping out ready for a day's
joy.

The Wind Creatures led them then out through the forest. The Tree Girl
was watching for them at her door. It was plain to be seen, when she
joined them, that she carried something in her arms very secretly under
her white cloak. But no one mentioned it. Ivra knew it must be a
surprise for her birthday. Where the party was to be no one told her,
and she did not ask. She liked surprises.

They came to the Forest Children's little moss village. The youngest
Forest Child of all was the only one up so early. He was busily breaking
dead twigs from bushes to build his morning fire and making up a little
rhymeless song about Ivra's birthday as he worked.

This is her birthday,
Spring's little daughter--
Spring's little daughter--
This is her birthday.

Wake now, wake now,
All you Forest Children,
Wake for her birthday
And tie your sandals on.

When he saw them he cried, "Hurrah! Happy birthday, Ivra!"

At his cry all the little windows in