“I didn’t mean to,” said Kitty, shutting the book quickly, and looking round apologetically; “but it’s all about a fairy godmother, and a lovely princess lady,—­oh, Mopsy, it’s fine!”

A pair of little blue enamelled pins was Rosamond’s present, and Kitty pinned them on her shoulders at once, to see how they looked.  All pronounced the effect excellent, and Rosy Posy clapped her little fat hands in glee.

“Mine’s the prettiest present!” she said.  “Mine’s the booflest!”

“Yes, Babykins,” said Kitty, “yours is the booflest,—­but they’re all lovely.”

The Farewell Feast included all of Kitty’s favorite dishes, and as most of them were also favorites with the other children, it was satisfactory all round.

“You must write to us often, Kit,” said King; “I gave you those writing things so you’d be sure to.”

“Yes, I will; but I don’t know yet where you’re all going to be.”

“I don’t know yet myself,” said Mr. Maynard, “but it will be somewhere near the sea, if possible.  Will you like the seashore, Kiddies,—­you that are going?”

“I shall,” said Marjorie, promptly.  “I’ll love it.  May we go bathing every day?  And can I have a bathing suit,—­red, trimmed with white?”

“I ’spect you can,” said her mother, smiling at her.  “What color do you want, King?”

“Oh, I think dark blue would suit my manly beauty!  What are you going to have, Father?”

“I think dark blue will be our choice, my boy.  It swims better than anything else.  But first we must find a roof to cover our heads.  I’ve about decided on one,—­if I can get it.  It’s a bungalow.”

“What’s a bungalow?” asked Marjorie.  “I never heard of such a thing.”

“Ho, ho!  Never heard of a bungalow!” said King.  “Why, a bungalow is a,—­is a,——­”

“Well, is a what?” asked Midget, impatiently.

“Why, it’s a bungalow!  That’s what it is.”

“Fine definition, King!” said his father.  “But since you undertook to do so, see if you can’t give its meaning better than that.  What is a bungalow?”

“Well, let me see.  It’s a house,—­I guess it’s a low, one-storied house, and that’s why they call it bungalow.  Is that it?”

“You’re right about the one story; the rest is, I think, your own invention.  Originally, the bungalow was the sort of a house they have in India, a one-storied affair, with a thatched roof, and verandas all round it.  But the ones they build now, in this country, are often much more elaborate than that.  Sometimes they have one story, sometimes more.  The one I’m trying to get for the summer is at Seacote, and it’s what they call a story and a half.  That is, it has an upper floor, but the rooms are under a slanting roof, and have dormer windows.”

“Sounds good to me,” said King.  “Do you think you’ll catch it, Dad?”

“I hope so.  Some other person has the refusal of it, but he’s doubtful about taking it.  So it may yet fall to our lot.”