In the meantime she meant to be as pleasant and as good a dolly as she knew how. So she smiled sweetly and cuddled close as Anne Marie sang softly and rocked her to and fro.
‘Il était un petit navire,
Il était un petit navire,
Qui n’avais jam—jam—jamais navigé,
Qui n’avais jam—jam—jamais navigé,’
sang Anne Marie.
‘Now I will tell you what the song is about, Polly,’ she went on. ‘It is about a little ship that never, never went sailing on the sea.’
There is no doubt that Anne Marie would have told Polly more about this little ship, but just at that moment the front-room door opened and quite unexpectedly in walked Papa Durant. Usually at this hour of the morning he was to be found in the kitchen, giving his orders for the day and watching his bakers step briskly about under his keen eye. But here he was, smiling and rubbing his hands together and even making a little bow every now and then.
‘Come, Anne Marie,’ said Papa Durant, nodding at Grand’mère over Anne Marie’s head and smiling his broadest smile. ‘Together we will go out into the snow and visit the great toyshop near by. There you may choose for yourself any toy that you wish. Any toy, I say. Now run for your hat and coat. Do not keep me waiting, Anne Marie.’
Last night Papa Durant had gone to a wedding. Not as one of the guests, oh, no! Far better than that. Papa Durant had baked the cakes for the wedding, all the little fancy cakes that were to be eaten with ice-cream, and also the great white wedding cake that held the place of honor in the very center of the table, with a tiny bride and groom standing arm in arm on top. Peeping from behind the door, Papa Durant had actually seen the bride stand and cut the beautiful wedding cake into generous slices, and had heard the guests on every side say that never before had they tasted such delicious cake.