Mother said, “Polly, take my place in the kitchen, please, and, Peter, you must amuse the baby.”
Polly went down stairs, put on her little all-over apron, and sat down on the kitchen stool.
She sighed: “Oh dear, something always happens on a sunny Saturday—when I want to play! We have to miss the school picnic to-day; but I will smile, and smile, and something nice will surely happen.”
With that, the dimples began to play hide and seek upon her face, and she heard an airy, fairy voice calling:
“Little Fairy Help-You-Out,
Blithe and gay beyond a doubt,
I’ll introduce you with much joy,
To the dear little, queer little Gingerbread Boy!”
“Who are you?” cried Polly.
She looked high and low, but no one was to be seen.