Monica brightened up, and they proceeded down a trim gravel path that had a moonstone wall on either side and a big door at the end. "Who are you, please?" asked Monica as they went along. "Where you come from, clever people call me Selene. Here, I am the Gardeness.--Your pass check," she added in a business-like way. "To Order or Bearer--which do you want?" The child hesitated. "You want to order a baby, I suppose?" The Gardeness was becoming rather impatient. "Oh yes, I've come to fetch it." "But you can't have a cheque to Order and Bearer at the same time." "Can't I?" inquired Monica plaintively. "How can I take it, then?" "That will be my business," whispered her companion mysteriously; then added loudly: "The little ones are being checked in the Counting House now. Be quick, or the pick of the choice will be gone." "To Order," faltered Monica. Whereupon her companion pushed the great door, which swung open, and the quaint pair quickly passed through. "They are always on order," remarked the Gardeness as she led Monica up a high flight of steps, "but we forward them in our own way. Excuse my question; it was a matter of form." Now they were in the loveliest garden ever seen, and Monica gave a little sob of delight as she noticed that all around about her in every flower nestled the dearest, wee-est little baby imaginable, whilst hundreds of tiny creatures were tending them, drying the dew-drops from their big round eyes, and turning their little bald heads for more air, all the while humming a refrain which Monica recognised as her Mother's favourite one, called the "Bee's Wedding." At first she marvelled silently at the beauty of the scene. Then, as she basked in the pervading warmth, she remembered having been surprised at seeing the moon and sun out at the same time, and now realised the moon was sunning its garden of babies. "I've brought my bandbox," she remarked, laughing gaily. "That's a good thing," replied her companion, "as it has to be a private transaction. Stoop down," and she drew Monica closer to the rows upon rows of the beautifullest roses, gently moved the petals of one of them, and revealed embedded in the heart of the rose its own sweet little baby. [Illustration: _Rows upon rows of the beautifullest roses_] Then the Gardeness told Monica with infinite pride about the flower infants under her care. To her visitor's remark on their resemblance to each other, she replied touchily, "I suppose you've seen many girls called Rose, who were alike when born, but they differ enough later! It's the same with the rest."