k them in.

"Are they going to color them all?" asked Royal.

"I s'pose so. Here are some of their old ones. They've been b'iled as
hard as stones. They'll keep forever;" and Rhoda handed out of the open
window a little basket of colored eggs.

"But some of these are painted," said the boy, taking up an egg with a
pattern of flowers on it.

"No, they ain't; they're jest colored in a dye-pot. Them that looks as
if they was painted were tied up in a bit of figgered calico and b'iled,
and when they come out of the b'iling they took the calico off, and
there was the figgers set on the eggs. See?"

"Yes, I see;" and Royal turned the egg round thoughtfully for a moment,
then suddenly put it down, and started off towards his wagon on a run.

"Land sakes!" called out Rhoda; "what's come to you all at once to set
off like that?"

"Muskrats!" shouted Royal, with a laugh as he jumped into the wagon.

"Ben a-settin' traps for 'em, eh?"

Royal nodded as he went rattling down the driveway.

"Did Royal Purple bring the eggs?" asked Elsie Lloyd, a little later.

"His name ain't Purple; it's Purcel," corrected Rhoda, innocently.

Elsie giggled. "Well, did Royal _Purcel_ bring the eggs?" she asked.

"Yes, there they be."

"Oh, oh! aren't they beauties?"

"They be; that's a fact," agreed Rhoda. "Royal, he's done his best for
ye now, anyway. He's kind o' quick, like all the Purcels, but he's real
accommodatin'."

"So he is, Rhoda, and I'll give him one of the prettiest eggs we turn
out for being so 'accommodatin';' and we are going to have some extra
pretty ones this time. See this now, and this, and this!" and Elsie
whipped out of her pocket several bits of bright calico. One was a
pattern of tiny rosebuds; another a little lily on a blue ground.

"The lily ones will be just lovely if they turn out well, and they will
be the real Easter egg with that lily pattern," said Marge,
enthusiastically.

By Saturday afternoon a goodly array of eggs of all colors and patterns
were "ready for company," as Elsie and Marge expressed it; for on
Saturday night a party of their friends were coming to them for a three
days' visit. It was about an hour after these friends had arrived, and
they were all hanging admiringly over the pretty display of eggs, that a
box was brought in by one of the servants. It was neatly tied, and
directed in a bold round handwriting to "Miss Elsie and Miss Marge
Lloyd."

"What _can_ it be?" said Marge,