"Never you fear but what they'll be in our bills, Polly," said Tom, who couldn't believe by this time that he hadn't always known Polly Pepper.
"It's dreadfully thin paper," said Adela, critically, getting off from the sofa to pick at one corner of the sheet Polly was beginning to divide.
"I'm glad we have any," hummed Polly, happily.
"Thank your stars you have," said Tom, as gaily. And Jasper running in, the table was soon surrounded by the makers of the Round Robin, Adela deserting her sketch-book and pulling up a chair.
"And Phronsie must come," said Polly, snipping away to get the paper the right width. "O dear me, I can't cut it straight. Do you please finish it, Jasper."
"That's all right," said Jasper, squinting at it critically, "only—just this edge wants a little bit of trimming, Polly." And he snipped off the offending points.
"I'll fetch Phronsie," cried Tom, springing off.
"And hurry," cried Polly and Jasper, together, after him.
"Polly," said Phronsie, as Tom came careering in with her on his shoulder. "I want to write, too, I do," she cried, very much excited.
"Of course, you shall, Pet. That's just what we want you for," cried
Polly, clearing a place on the table; "there, do pull up a chair,
Jasper."