How they did work after that! They sat under the trees and stitched away until the robins must have wondered what manner of nests these large birds were building that required such an endless supply of threads and silks and sweet-smelling cotton-wool. Hannah was kept breathlessly busy, planning and cutting out and basting, for when fingers are willing, needles fly.
A little bird (perhaps one of the robins) told Miss Cissy what was afoot and the first thing the Sweet P’s knew there she was, declaring she did not intend to be excluded from all the fun and that if they did not mind she was going to have a finger in their Fresh Air pie. In spite of their good-will they had discovered that a fair meant pretty hard work and, sew as diligently as they might, they seemed to make very little progress after the first few days. But when Miss Cicely arrived everything was changed. She helped them with such energy that, before they knew it their stock in trade had outgrown the nursery limits and had to be shifted to the great picture-gallery. Then, suddenly, contributions began to pour in from every side. Grandpapa and grandmamma sent a huge boxful of the most wonderful articles and all the uncles and aunts followed suit, until it was plain that the Sweet P’s modest fair was developing into a very elaborate affair. Miss Cicely had said she would take charge of one of the booths, but she soon discovered she could not do it alone, even with the assistance of two such tireless cash-girls as Priscilla and Polly, and so she asked their permission to invite some of the neighborhood ladies to lend a hand. Then some one suggested that it would sound much grander if the fair were called a kirmess and, this being agreed upon, of course all the booths had to be arranged in the quaint fashion of those at a German village festival and the attendants dressed in the peasant costume. The Sweet P’s were to be arrayed in scarlet woolen petticoats; black-velvet, gold-laced bodices over white guimpes, with white aprons, black velvet caps, low, gilt-buckled shoes and dark-blue stockings. Oh-my heard them talking about it as they sat behind him in the little basket-cart that he drew so patiently over hill and dale for their amusement, and Polly was quite certain his feelings were hurt because he was not included in the plans for the bazaar.
“The poor, dear thing!” she confided to Priscilla. “He feels left out in the cold.”
Hannah laughed. “Cold, is it?” she repeated, fanning herself with her apron and trying to dodge the hot sun beneath the little canopy-top of the cart. “Well, he may be glad of it. I wouldn’t mind being left out in the cold myself for a bit these stifling days.”
“Well, heat, then,” Polly laughingly corrected herself but with a pretended pout. “I’m quite certain he feels left out in the—heat.”
“Do you really think so?” asked Priscilla. “Oh, poor pony! We didn’t really mean it! We didn’t really mean to leave you out.”
“But he mustn’t be left out,” insisted Polly, decidedly. “He just has got to be part of it, that’s all. We’ll ask Miss Cissy as soon as we get home what he can do to help.”
Miss Cicely knew at once. “He can take all the little boys and girls for a drive; fare, five cents. We’ll put ribbons and bells on the cart to make it look festive and we’ll get some nice lad, who is a careful driver, to dress himself up as a German Hans, and then you see if Oh-my does not make a nice pocketful of money for us.”
Polly clapped her hands. She was convinced that Oh-my understood and would be charmed with the idea. And certainly this seemed to be the case, for when the great day of the kirmess arrived he proved as earnest and excited a worker as any there. Up the driveway and down he scampered, prancing a bit at the turning where a low railing protected the road from the edge of a steep bank of the ravine, and mischievously making the happy children who crowded the basket to the brim shriek aloud with excitement that was half fun, half fear. He was, in fact, one of the most popular attractions at the festival and Uncle Arthur, who was in charge of the prize-parcel booth, threatened to put him off the grounds, he was so dangerous a rival and monopolized so much of the custom.
Polly and Priscilla fluttered about like two tireless, industrious Gretchens, filling orders and carrying bundles and doing their duty so thoroughly and well that it was a pleasure to watch them. The grounds were thronged and it was difficult to get about amid such a crowd, but their patience never wavered and the day bade fair to prove a glorious success. Polly carried a little chamois-skin bag filled with quarters and dimes and nickels and whenever there was a bill to change she seemed to be on the spot to assist in the transaction.