with a few pictures of the
most exciting incidents of the trip also appeared.

"Every one writes or prints a book in Boston, you know, so we did both,"
said Aunt Maria, laughing, as she handed over the remarkable history
which she had composed and Mr. Beacon illustrated.

It was read with intense interest, and was as true as most stories are
nowadays.

"Nothing more delightful can happen now!" exclaimed the children, as
they laid by the precious work and enthroned the travelled dolls in the
place of honor on the roof of the baby-house.

But something much more delightful did happen; for at Thanksgiving time
there was a wedding at the Plums'. Not a doll's wedding, as Flo had
planned, but a real one, for the gentleman from Boston actually married
Aunt Maria.

There were six bridesmaids, all in blue, and Flora and Dora, in the
loveliest of new pink gowns, were set aloft among the roses on the
wedding-cake, their proper place as everyone said, for there never would
have been any marriage at all but for this Doll's Journey From Minnesota
to Maine.

VI.

MORNING-GLORIES.

"What's that?"--and Daisy sat up in her little bed to listen; for she
had never heard a sound like it before.

It was very early, and the house was still. The sun was just rising, and
the morning-glories at the window were turning their blue and purple
cups to catch the welcome light. The sky was full of rosy clouds; dew
shone like diamonds on the waving grass, and the birds were singing as
they only sing at dawn. But softer, sweeter than any bird-voice was the
delicate music which Daisy heard. So airy and gay was the sound, it
seemed impossible to lie still with that fairy dancing-tune echoing
through the room. Out of bed scrambled Daisy, her sleepy eyes opening
wider and wider with surprise and pleasure as she listened and wondered.

"Where is it?" she said, popping her head out of the window. The
morning-glories only danced lightly on their stems, the robins chirped
shrilly in the garden below, and the wind gave Daisy a kiss; but none of
them answered her, and still the lovely music sounded close beside her.

"It's a new kind of bird, perhaps; or maybe it's a fairy hidden
somewhere. Oh, if it _is_ how splendid it will be!" cried Daisy; and she
began to look carefully in all the colored cups, under the leaves of the
woodbine, and in the wren's nest close by. There was neither fairy nor
bird to be seen; and Daisy stood wondering, when