"Oh, Jasper, I'd so much rather sit on the sand," called Polly.
"So had I," he confessed, running back and throwing himself down beside her. "Now, then, do begin on your grapes, Polly."
"We'll begin together," she said, poking open the paper. "Oh, aren't they good, though!"
"I should rather say they were," declared Jasper; "dear me, what a bunch!"
"It's not as big as mine," said Polly, holding up hers to the light.
"You made me take that one, Jasper."
"It's no better than mine," said Jasper, eating away.
"I'm going to hop into one of the chairs just a minute before we go," said Polly, nodding at the array along the beach, and eating her grapes busily, "to see how they feel."
"Oh, Polly, let me get you a chair now," begged Jasper, setting down the remainder of his bunch of grapes, and springing up.
"Oh, I don't want to, I really and truly don't, Jasper," Polly made haste to cry. "I like the sand ever and ever so much better. I only want to see for a minute what it's like to be in one of those funny old things. Then I should want to hop out with all my might, I just know I should."
"I'm of your mind," said Jasper, coming back to his seat on the sand again. "They must be very stuffy, Polly. Well, now you are here, would you like to come back to Scheveningen for a few days, Polly?"