ders. Unless, indeed, they could build a raft and save themselves,
but this they had never accomplished.

The desert island was selected, and this time they chose a certain
grassy knoll under an immense old maple tree.

Marjorie disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and, after a time,
came back with a small basket, apparently well-filled.

With this she scampered away to the "desert island," and soon returned,
swinging the empty basket. Tossing this into the house, she announced
that she was ready.

Then the four went to the big, double, wooden swing, and got in.

Kitty carried her doll, Arabella, from which she was seldom separated,
and Rosy Posy hugged her big white Teddy Bear, who was named Boffin and
who accompanied the baby on all expeditions.

The swing, to-day, was an ocean steamer.

"Have your tickets ready!" called out Kingdon, as his passengers swarmed
up the gangplank, which he had thoughtfully laid from the ground to the
low step of the swing.

Soon they were all on board, the gangplank drawn in, and the ship
started.

At first all went smoothly. The swing swayed gently back and forth, and
the passengers admired the beautiful scenery on either side. The
Captain had never crossed an ocean, and the nearest he had come to it
had been a sail up the Hudson and a trip to Coney Island. His local
color, therefore, was a bit mixed, but his passengers were none the
wiser, or if they were, they didn't care.

"On the right, we see West Point!" the Captain shouted, pointing to
their own house. "That's where the soldiers come from. The noble
soldiers who fight for the land of the free and the home of the brave."

"Are you a soldier, sir?" asked Marjorie.

"Yes, madam; I am a veteran of the Civil War. But as there's no fighting
to do now, I run this steamer."

"A fine ship it is," observed Kitty.

"It is that! No finer craft sails the waves than this."

"What is that mountain in the distance?" asked Marjorie, shading her
eyes with her hand as she looked across the street.

"That's a--a peak of the Rockies, ma'am. And now we are passing the
famous statue of 'Liberty Enlightening the World.'"

As the statue to which Kingdon pointed was really Mrs. Maynard, who had
come out on the veranda, and stood with her hand high against a post,
the children shouted with laughter.

But this was quickly suppressed, as part of the fun of making-believe
was to keep grave about it.

"Is your daughter ill, madam