' Mother's clothes were 'wropp in mystery'
ever. No one ever discovered where they came from or how she made
them. She did. It seemed always the same black dress and velvet
blouse.
Gravity and laughter, therefore, mingled in Daddy's face as he drew
out one paper parcel after another, opened it, tried the article on
himself, and handed it next to be tried on similarly by every one in
turn.
And the first extraction from the magic box was a curious looking
thing that no one recognised. Daddy unfolded it and placed it solemnly
on his head. He longed for things for himself, but rarely found them.
He tried on everything, hoping it might 'just do,' but in the end
yielded it with pleasure to the others. He rarely got more than a pair
of gloves or a couple of neckties for himself. The coveted suits just
missed his size.
Grave as a judge he balanced the erection on his head. It made a
towering heap. Every one was puzzled. 'It's a motor cap,' ventured
some one at length in a moment of intuition.
'It's several!' cried Monkey. She snatched the bundle and handed it to
Mother. There were four motor caps, neatly packed together. Mother put
on each in turn. They were in shades of grey. They became her well.
'You look like a duchess,' said Daddy proudly. 'You'd better keep them
all.
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