“O dear, that’s my fault!” cried Ben, in great distress.—Page [124].
“O dear, that’s my fault,” cried Ben, in great distress. “Polly, I’m dreadfully sorry—” and getting down to pick them up.
“Oh, no, it isn’t,” cried Polly; “never mind, Ben,” as she saw his face. Jasper and the others immediately left the baking table to hurry to the scene.
“We can scrape them off,” said Ben, ruefully, and getting a knife to begin operations.
“But they’ve been on the floor,” said Polly, “and they’ll never be so nice,” and she sighed.
“Well, let’s make some more,” said Jasper, “and throw these away, Polly. That’s easy enough.”
“But we can’t throw them away,” said Polly, in horror, “and we haven’t very much flour in the bag,” and she leaned over to look into it. “Mamsie said that was all we could take.”
“Then we must cut off the tops of the biscuits, Polly,” said Ben; “there’s no other way.”
“And Dave and I’ll eat ’em,” said Joel, briskly.
“Well, you must have a sharp knife then, Ben,” said Polly. “Wait, I’ll get it.” So she ran and got Mamsie’s special one in the little drawer under the sink that Mrs. Pepper always used when there was any meat (which wasn’t often) to cut up, and all the bunch of children watching, the tops of the little biscuits were slowly cut off by Ben.