One day I went to town, to the toy store, carrying my dollar, saved from coins in my little piggy bank, which I had figured out how to rob without having to break. I couldn't bear the thought of smashing the ceramic figurine as I had once seen my brother do. So that day, I proudly carried my dollar into the shop and presented it to the kind man who owned the store.
Part of the mystery of the surprise ball was the joy of being able to select which ball you would take from the wire cage holding the many beckoning globes. I was a person quite partial to the color green, but the ball that spoke to me that day was a lovely, soft, pink color. I reached in for it, selected it, held it and admired it while I felt the heft of it in my small hands. And then carefully carried it home where I could sit and safely unwrap its bounty.
I remember a small "jeweled" ring with a band one could squeeze together or pry open to fit almost any sized finger. And a very small, dark blue whistle with a piercingly high squeal. But the treasure was the last gift waiting at the very center of the ball. Not much larger than a good-sized pea, it was a clear glass ball with a thin gold band around its circumference. And inside was one tiny sand-colored granule. Attached to the band, was a miniature gold page with the words: "If ye have the faith of a seed of mustard."