“Who is so merry, heigho! heigho! As a dwarf who lives in the woods, heigho? He may dance away by the light of the moon, But happy is he with his magic spoon.” Now the magic spoon was so upset to think the little dwarf could not keep still that he sprang down from the shelf and cried, “You will not heed whate’er I say, So, little dwarf, you’ll go away!” Then he beat the little dwarf all the way to the palace of the Fairy Queen, where he became a servant and he never dared to return to his home. The magic spoon went back to his place on the shelf. For all I know he may be there yet! “Didn’t any one ever see the magic spoon after that?” asked Polly. “Is it a really, truly, true story?” asked Molly. Then the other Babies laughed so hard that they rolled over and over on the floor, and at last they said, “Some day we will go in search of the magic spoon and the magic pitcher. May we go, Ma?” The Ink-Bottle Mamma laughed and said, “It is time for you funny little Babies to go to bed.” The Ink-Bottle Mamma read so slowly it had taken her all day to read the story. The Babies went off happily to bed singing, “Oh, the magic pitcher and magic spoon, We will try to find them soon; By and by to the woods we’ll go, And meet the dwarf with his merry heigho!” Just then some one tapped on the door. It was the Ink-Bottle Papa. He had been away for his health for a year and a day! The Ink-Bottle Mamma was glad to see him again, you may be sure. She said, “Hush, my dear, we may wake the Babies.” But she was not quick enough, for all the Babies woke up and began to come downstairs by twos and threes to see who had come to their house. They hugged their dear Papa until he cried out, “Look in my pockets and see a surprise!” Then the Ink-Bottle Babies looked in his pockets and drew out twenty-five little silver spoons. They all looked exactly alike, and the Babies cried, “Thank you, Papa, we will call them our magic spoons.” Then the Babies went to bed again. CHAPTER VII THE MAGIC KITES The merry March wind is singing a song, “Blow, blow, blow! Sweet springtime is coming, coming along, Blow, blow, blow!” Said the Ink-Bottle Babies, “Don’t blow us away;” They said, “It is fun in the wind to play; We’ll fly our kites on this merry March day. Blow, blow, blow!” One day in the merry month of March, the Ink-Bottle Papa said, “I have a half-holiday. What shall we do?” Then the twenty-five little Ink-Bottle Babies clapped their hands and cried, “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” “Shall we do the family washing?” asked the Ink-Bottle Papa with a twinkle in his eye. The Ink-Bottle Babies said, “We are so little, it is true, The washing is very hard to do!” The Ink-Bottle Papa laughed and he said, “Then shall we sweep the house all over, from top to bottom?” Then the Babies said,