“That nearly floored me,” said Jasper.

“No; you said it was Mary’s watching you like a lynx—­you know you did,” said Polly, laughing merrily.

“Never mind,” said the old gentleman.  “What next, Polly?  The play is all right.”

“I should think it was,” cried Jasper.  “It’s the Three Dragons, and the Princess Clotilde.”

“Oh, my goodness,” exclaimed Mr. King, “What a play for Christmas Eve!”

“Well, you’ll say it’s a splendid hit!” cried Jasper, “when you see it from the private box we are going to give you.”

“So you are intending to honor me, are you?” cried his father, vastly pleased to find himself as ever, the central figure in their plans.  “Well, well, I dare say it will all be as fine as can be to welcome these young scapegraces home.  What next, Polly?”

“It must be kept a perfect surprise,” cried Polly, clasping her hands while the color flew over her face.  “No one must even whisper it to each other, the day before Christmas when the boys get here, for Joel is so very dreadful whenever there is a secret.”

“His capacity certainly is good,” said Mr. King dryly.  “We will all be very careful.”

“And Phronsie is to be Princess Clotilde,” cried Jasper, seizing her suddenly, to prance around the room, just like old times.

“Oh, Jasper!  I’m eight years old,” she cried, struggling to free herself.

“Nonsense!  What of it—­you are the baby of this household.  “But he set her on her feet nevertheless, one hand still patting the soft yellow waves over her brow.  “Go on, Polly, do, and lay the whole magnificence before father.  He will be quite overcome.”

“That would be disastrous,” said Mr. King; “better save your effects till the grand affair comes off.”

“Jasper is to be one of the dragons,” announced Polly, quite in her element, “that is, the head dragon; Ben is to be another, and we haven’t quite decided whether to ask Archy Hurd or Clare to take the third one.”

“Clare has the most ‘go’ in him,” said Jasper critically.

“Then I think we’ll decide now to ask him,” said Polly, “don’t you, Jasper?”

“A dragon without ‘go’ in him would be most undesirable, I should fancy.  Well, what next do you propose to do, Polly?” asked Mr. King.

“Now that we know that you will allow us to have it,” cried Polly in a rapture, “why, we can think up splendid things.  We’ve only the play written so far, sir.”

“Polly wrote the most,” said Jasper.

“Oh, no, Jasper!  I only put in the bits,” said Polly.  “He planned it?- every single bit, Jasper did.”

“Well, she thought up the dragons, and the cave, and"?-

“Oh! that was easy enough,” said Polly, guilty of interrupting, “because you see something has to carry off the Princess Clotilde.”

“Oh, now! you are not going to frighten my little girl,” cried Mr. King.  “I protest against the whole thing if you do,” and he put out his hand.  “Come, Phronsie,” when, as of old, she hurried to his side obediently.