“Oh, isn’t it a beau-ti-ful home!” she cried.
“How glad we are that you like it,” said the little lady. “Welcome to Rose Cottage.”
“Walk—right—in—Welcome—to—Rose—Cottage,” cried a new voice as they entered. It was a shrill, nasal voice.
Tiny looked around, but saw no one. “Look! I’m—right—here,” cried the voice again.
The little lady laughed. “All right, Polly,” she called, and Tiny saw in one corner of the room a pretty green-and-red-and-yellow poll-parrot.
She wanted to go nearer and pet him, but his mistress hurried her to the breakfast table.
“Let—us—take—a drive,” called out Polly presently.
“Why, yes, let us. Shall we go now, Martin?” asked Mrs. Bountiful.
“Yes, Mother,” smiled the big boy.
“Take—us—all,” called Polly, “Take—us—all—don’t—forget—the—monk.”