y.

Tom slipped away, to return bearing the big box which he had carried so
tenderly up from the houseboat.

Between them Madge and Phil lifted out a mammoth wedding cake and placed
it, with a flourish, in the center of the feast. "You wouldn't have a
wedding supper at Mrs. Preston's, Miss Betsey--Mrs. Randolph, I mean,"
announced Madge, "so we have made you have it here." Madge handed her a
knife, saying, "You must cut your own wedding cake."

"I can't cut it," protested Mrs. Randolph; "it is too lovely." On top of
the cake was an exquisite frosted ship, made to represent the houseboat.
Six tiny dolls danced about it, Phil, Lillian, Eleanor, Madge, Miss
Jenny Ann and Miss Betsey! On it was written in icing: "Good luck to the
Bride."

It was too dark to see the bride's radiant old face as she cut into her
wedding cake, but her hand trembled.

A minute later Eleanor gave a little cry of surprise. In biting her cake
she had come across a small gold ring.

"Eleanor will be married first, but I shall be the richest," announced
Lillian, as she held up a bright silver dime. "Who will be the old
maid?"

Nobody spoke, but Madge produced a small, bent thimble. "I am going to
be the old maid, of course. Haven't I always said so?" she inquired.

"_Not_ if I know it!" whispered Tom into Madge's unheeding ears.

"Come on, children, to the boats," ordered Miss Jenny Ann, a little
later. "Night has come on. We must say good-bye. We won't have any
farewells, even in the morning. They are too dismal. But pleasant dreams
on the houseboat and the motor launch. And may we meet again!"

Miss Jennie Ann's wish was prophetic. There were other happy times in
store for the four girls and their teacher on board their beloved "Ship
of Dreams," the "Merry Maid." What happened to them during a summer at
Cape May and how Madge kept her vow to find her father are fully set
forth in "MADGE MORTON'S VICTORY," the record of another summer
vacation spent at the seashore which no friend of the little captain and
her chums Lillian, Phyllis and Eleanor, not to mention Miss Jenny Ann
Jones, can afford to miss reading.

THE END.

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY'S

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