Mrs. Owen was to have a birthday, and Peggy and Alice felt something especial ought to be done to celebrate it. It was Miss Pauline Thornton who put the idea of a surprise party into Peggy’s head. She came over one rainy evening to tell Mrs. Owen about a surprise party the Sewing Circle was to give to the minister’s wife on her fiftieth birthday. Miss Pauline Thornton lived with her father in the large gray stone house behind the stone wall on which Peggy was fond of walking. She was a great friend of Mrs. Owens, who could never understand why the children did not like her, for she was tall and good-looking and always wore beautiful clothes. Older people found her very agreeable and efficient. Mrs. Owen helped her off with her raincoat. Underneath it was a dress the color of violets.

If Miss Pauline had been the kind of person with whom one could play the geography game, Peggy thought what a good time they could have had living together in Pennsylvania. But as it was, she did not like to spend even a half-hour with her. Miss Pauline’s big house seemed dreary to Peggy, with its high ceilings and stately furniture and pictures. When she went there to call with her mother, she always hoped that she might see the collie dog and Miss Pauline’s father. She liked old Mr. Thornton. He had white hair and a kind face, and he looked as if he might like to play the geography game, if only his daughter was not there, but she always was there.

Mrs. Owen was reading aloud to the children when Miss Thornton came in.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt; I thought the children were always in bed by this time,” she said, glancing at the clock.

“It is their bedtime, but I was late in beginning to read to them to-night. You can finish the story to yourselves if you like.”

“Aren’t you going to shake hands with me, Peggy?” Miss Thornton asked.

Peggy slowly unlocked her arms, which she had folded behind her, and held out an unwilling hand.

“What is the story that is so interesting?” Miss Thornton asked, as she took the book out of Peggy’s other hand.

“‘Snow White and Rose Red,’” she said. “I never cared for fairy-tales when I was a child.”

Peggy and Alice seated themselves in the same chair, with the book between them.

“You ought to come over nearer the light; you will strain your eyes,” said Miss Thornton.

Mrs. Owen gave up her seat to the children and Miss Thornton began to talk about the surprise party.

Peggy soon found herself listening.

“It is to be in the afternoon—like an afternoon tea,” she said.

“Are all the parish to be there—men as well as women?” asked Mrs. Owen.

“No, only the women. It is what Prissy Baker calls a ‘hen-party.’”

Peggy could keep silent no longer. “Do you mean people are going to give her hens?” she asked.

“Hens? No; that is just an expression, Peggy; that means a party of ladies.”

Peggy was silent. She might have known that they would not have thought of anything so interesting. The fact that they were to take the minister’s wife ten five-dollar gold pieces, in a silk bag, was a poor substitute, indeed, for living, cackling, laying hens.

After the children went to bed, they could still hear Miss Pauline’s voice going on and on.

“It’s funny mother likes her so much,” Peggy said. “If I ever grow up I shall have friends who like to do interesting things, and read fairy-stories, and talk on nice subjects, the way Miss Betsy Porter does. Oh, Alice,” she said, shutting up her eyes and then opening them wide, “I am beginning to see things on the wall. Look and see what is coming.”

Alice stared at the wall, in the darkness, but as usual, she could see nothing. “What do you see?” she asked.

“Hens!” Peggy exclaimed dramatically; “white ones, Rhode Island Reds, Plymouth Rocks, yellow ones—all kinds, a regular procession; and I see ladies, too, in bright dresses. They are all going to a hen party.”

“I wish I could see them,” said Alice. “Do you really see them, Peggy?”

“Yes, in my mind’s eye. It is such a nice picture, Alice,” she cried, “let’s have a surprise party of just hens for mother!”

“That would be great!” said Alice.

“We’d ask Mrs. Horton and Clara and Miss Rand.”

“They wouldn’t come all the way from New York.”

“They might come. Sometimes they do come for a week-end, and her birthday comes on a Saturday. And we’ll ask all the Carters, of course. Each family need only give one hen.”

“And Miss Pauline Thornton,” said Alice. “They have lots of hens.”

“No,” said Peggy firmly; “I’m not going to ask her. She’d spoil the party.”

“She had on a lovely gown,” said Alice, “and she’s one of mother’s best friends.”

Peggy went to consult Miss Betsy Porter about the party, and Miss Betsy thought it a fine idea. She said that Peggy and Alice could bring their note-paper, with colored pictures on it, down to her house, and write the notes, and she would enclose them in a note she would write each person, so they would know there was some responsible person to help about the surprise party, and that it was not merely an idea of the children’s. She said she would bring a loaf of her best spice cake and some cookies and sandwiches, and she knew that Mrs. Carter would be delighted to make and pour the tea, and Miss Thornton would pour the chocolate.

“But I don’t want Miss Pauline,” said Peggy. “She would spoil the party.”

“But she is one of your mother’s best friends. Whose birthday is it, Peggy? Yours or your mother’s?”

“Mother’s,” said Peggy, hanging her head.

“Pauline is a good sort,” said Miss Betsy. “There is no use in disliking good people, Peggy. I think it had better be a small party, for your mother would not want the care of many hens, and, besides, small parties are the most fun. We’ll ask all of the Carters—that will make five.”

“Six with Uncle Joe—I know he’ll come on ’specially for it, if I ask him,” said Peggy. “He needn’t bring a hen, because he belongs to the family. There’s to be just one hen for every family.”

“Then, if Mrs. Horton and Miss Rand and Clara should come on,” said Miss Porter, “that would make nine, I would make ten, and Miss Pauline eleven.”

“If I’ve got to have Miss Pauline,” said Peggy, with a sigh, “I’m going to have the dog and her father.”

“All right,” said Miss Betsy, “that will make one hen for the Carters, one for the Hortons,—for I’m sure they will give a hen, even if they can’t come themselves,—one for the Thorntons, and one for me.”

“Not one for you,” said Peggy. “You have given me Mr. Henry Cox already.”

“I would not be left out on any account,” said Miss Betsy. “Six hens would be as many as your mother would want, as she isn’t planning to run a poultry farm. I am sure Mrs. Horton would like to give a pair—she has so many. I’ll suggest they send Rhode Island Reds—it is better to have all of a kind.”

“I think it would be more fun to have them different,” said Peggy.

“They get along better if they are all of a kind,” said Miss Betsy. “I have too many kinds, but I can give you another Rhode Island Red. It is like the Jews and the Italians—they are happier in a quarter by themselves.”

“It will be a Rhode Island Red Quarter,” said Peggy, in delight. “I can name one Mrs. Rhoda Rhodes.”

“I know some people who are named Henn,” said Miss Betsy.

Peggy looked doubtful. “It may be all right for people,” she said, “but I don’t like it for hens. I think Henderson sounds nicer.”

She and Alice sat down to write the notes. Miss Betsy made no suggestions, but they were glad to ask her about the spelling. Peggy wrote the notes to the Carters and Hortons, and Alice wrote the one to Miss Thornton.

Dear Mrs. Carter, Peggy wrote—

Mother is to have a birthday a week from next Saturday, and we are going to celebrate it by giving her a surprise party consisting of hens,—each family to bring one hen,—Rhode Island Reds preferred,—as we have Mr. Henry Cox and Mrs. Henrietta Cox already. Please ask Uncle Joe to come. He need not bring a separate hen, but can join in with you. Old Michael Parrell has them for sale.

Your loving friend

Peggy

This invitation is for you all,—Dr. Carter, if he is not too busy,—Tom, Christopher, and Diana.