"And the washing the dishes and things up afterward," said Jasper, reflecting; "I think I liked that just as well as the baking, Polly."
"It was good fun," said Polly; "and how funny you looked with one of
Mamsie's aprons tied round under your chin, Jasper."
"I know it," said Jasper, bursting into a laugh. "I must have looked like—I don't know what. But it was good fun, Polly."
And then Phronsie came running up, and after her came Grandpapa to see that she got there all right.
"Oh, Polly, do you see the windmills?" she cried, clapping her small hands.
"Yes, Pet," said Polly, looking all along the soft curves of the shore, "there are hundreds of them, aren't there?"
"There was a girl coming out of the door of one of them," announced Phronsie, climbing up on the seat and putting her arm around Polly's neck. "Polly, I'd like to live in a windmill; I would," she whispered close to her ear.
"Would you, Pet?"
"Yes, I would truly," she said. "Why couldn't I, Polly, just like that girl I saw coming out of the door?" she asked, looking back wistfully.
"Well, that girl never had a little brown house to live in," said
Polly; "think of that, Phronsie."