"Why are you giving her these things?" asked Marjorie.
"Oh, because she's so sweet," answered one of the children. "Isn't she pretty? and aren't her curls lovely? We've every one of us given her something. I gave her the ribbon off of my hair," and she looked at Marjorie expectantly.
Marjorie felt in her pocket; but there was nothing there that she could give, and now more of the children were looking at her. She put her hand to her neck where was the slender gold chain which she prized almost more than anything else that she owned. All of the children were looking at her now, so she unfastened the chain, and going forward she clasped it about the neck of the pretty little girl. It was far nicer than anything that the others had given, and Marjorie felt a little thrill of pride as she stepped back to see the effect; and then, while the other children were clapping their hands and kissing the pretty child, she turned away—with a lump in her throat.
As usual, she and her companion walked some distance in silence. Presently the Dream spoke. "Would you mind telling me why you did that?" he asked.
