"So I have," said Alexia coolly, "we always do have; you know we do, Polly.
Well, now begin."
"But it's your place to begin first," said Polly decidedly, "because you said you had something to talk over. So what is it, Alexia?"
"Well—" Alexia drew a long breath, cudgeling her brains, then burst out, "We must think of something new to do now, Polly, since the garden party is over."
"I know," said Polly. "How I wish we could get up something else, for our fancy work is all done! Oh, wasn't it just gorgeous, Alexia"—with a comfortable little wriggle.
"I should say it was," cried Alexia, "and didn't it sell, though!—and everybody wished there was more, except my horrible old shawl."
"Why, Alexia Rhys!" Polly poked up her head where she had been nestling it on Alexia's shoulder. "You know Mrs. Sterling sent for the shawl and gave five dollars for it."
"Oh, that was because she knew it was so ugly that no one else would buy it," said Alexia composedly. "Well, I don't care, so long as it's sold. I was just tired to death of that old thing, Polly; I don't want to ever see another shawl."
"Well, we shan't have another fair in a long while, I suppose," said Polly, with a sigh, and laying her head down again.
"Not till next summer," said Alexia; "then, says I, for a garden party! You know your grandpapa said he'd give you another, just as nice a one, then."
"But that's a whole year." said Polly disconsolately; "heigh-ho, it's so very long to wait! Well, I suppose we must think of something else to do now."