It is small wonder that the people of the Northland joyously celebrate the bright, sunny day of midsummer, after the cold days and long dark nights of winter. It is an ancient custom, coming down from old heathen times, when fires were lighted on all the hills to celebrate the victory of Baldur, the sun god, who conquered the frost giants and the powers of darkness. On Midsummer's Eve, the twenty-third of June, a majstång is erected in every village green in Sweden. The villagers and peasants, young and old, gather from far and near, and dance around the May-pole all through the long night, which is no night at all, but a glowing twilight, from late sunset till early dawn. There was a great deal of work to be done in preparation for this festival, and such a busy day as the children had! They gathered basketfuls of flowers, and long streamers of ground pine, which they made into ropes and wreaths. They cut great armfuls of birch boughs, and decorated the little farmhouse, inside and out; placing the graceful branches with their tender green leaves wherever there was a spot to hold them. Over the doors and windows, up and down the porch, along the fence, and even around the well, they twined the long ropes and fastened the green wreaths and boughs. After a hasty lunch they rowed across the lake and spent the afternoon at the village green, helping to dress the tall majstång; and when their supper of berries and milk and caraway bread was eaten, they were glad enough to tumble into bed, although the sun was till shining and would not set until nearly eleven o'clock. "Wait until to-morrow," murmured Gerda drowsily; "then you will see the happiest day of the whole year." Karen tried to tell her that every day was happy, now that she could run and play like other children; but she fell asleep in the middle of the sentence, and Gerda hadn't even heard the beginning of it. "The sun has been dancing over the hills for hours," called Grandmother Ekman at five o'clock the next morning. "It is time for everyone to be up and making ready for church." All the festival days in Sweden begin with a church service, and everyone goes to church. In the cities the people walk or ride in street-cars or carriages; but in Dalarne some ride on bicycles, some drive, some sail across the lake in the little steamer, and others row in the Sunday boat. Grandmother Ekman always followed the good old custom of rowing with her neighbors in the long boat, and six o'clock found her at the wharf with the three children, all carrying a beautiful branch of white birch with its shining green leaves. "This is just what I have wanted to do, ever since you told me about it at the Sea-gull Light," whispered Karen, as they found seats in the boat and began the pleasant journey across the peaceful, shining water.