Rain no longer fell every day. Lawn mowers whirred through the shaggy winter grass. People went to the park again. Everyone, especially Ramona, felt good. One evening, late in May, the Quimby family was enjoying an unusually quiet dinner. The telephone did not ring. Roberta had been fed and, worn out from pulling herself to her feet by hanging on to chairs, was asleep. Beezus and her father were talking about something—Ramona wasn’t paying attention because she was busy examining the new calluses beginning to form on the palms of her hands. The girls at school, those who enjoyed swinging on the rings, were once more comparing calluses. This thought gave Ramona an idea. “You know what I would like to do on my birthday?” she asked, and did not wait for an answer. “Have a birthday party in the park. We can play on the rings and skip playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and all those babyish games.” “I think we can manage that if Beezus will help with Roberta,” agreed Mrs. Quimby, and added, “If it doesn’t rain.”
