"Well now, how I do wish there was just one more, Candace," said Polly, pushing up the damp rings of hair from her forehead, for it was pretty anxious work, "for I can get along with three so nicely. But you haven't another single one," she mourned.
"No, I hain'," said Candace, "an' dat am a fac'. But why couldn' you take a white one, honey? Dat would look real nice," she added, holding one up persuasively.
"Oh, I want a pink one," said Polly, not looking at the little white one. "I did want three pink ones fastened together, Candace, they would be so pretty."
"But if you hain' got 'em, why you hain'," said Candace, with decision; "so what's de nex' bes' ting to do?"
"Oh, I suppose to take the white one," said Polly, turning away from the box with a sigh. "But the pink one would be so nice."
"An' you better not tink about de pink ones," said Candace, opening a drawer to get out some soft paper, "but be glad you could get a white one to mix in. S'posin' I hadn't had nothin' but green ones."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly. "Yes, I know, that would have been dreadful, wouldn't it, Candace?"
"Dat's so," said Candace, smoothing out a wad of paper, "as long as you don' like de green ones. But I tink dat one I made out o' ole missus's bunnet strings is a perfec' beauty. Ole missus al'ays had de bery bes' o' ribbin."
"Oh, I want some pink ribbon to tie the little cushions together with," said Polly, at the mention of ribbon. "And I must have some narrow white, too, Candace, please."
"Well, I'm glad I found that thimble," said Ben, lifting a very red face to the counter-edge, and presently getting up to his feet. "Here, Candace, now don't let that run away from you again, that's my advice."