“Oh, Jasper, what a fine idea!” exclaimed Polly, all her enthusiasm returning.
“Well, mark off half of 'em, and I'll write the others,” said Jasper, tearing off strips from his big sheet of paper. So Polly and he fell to work; and presently “Pick,” and “Tom” (“that's for the song,” said Polly), and “Banjo,” and “Mr. Dyce,” and “Percy,” went down on the little strips.
“Oh, and I forgot,” said Polly, raising her head from her last strip, “Phronsie wanted to hear Clare very much indeed.”
“OH, I DO HOPE I SHALL DRAW THE RIGHT ONE, JASPER.”
“Well, we should have had the whole program with a vengeance,” said Jasper, bursting into a laugh. “Well, put him down, Polly.”
So “Clare” went down on another strip, and then they were all jumbled up in a little Chinese bowl on the bookcase.
“Now, you draw first, Polly,” said Jasper.
“Oh, no, let us choose for first draw,” said Polly; “that's the way to be absolutely right.”
So she ran back to the table and tore off two more strips, one short and the other long, and fixed them in between her hands.