“Oh, I do—I do,” said Joel, whose feet actually twitched to be spinning again, and he pulled at Polly’s hand.
“I’d rather play the Muffin Man,” said Phronsie, beginning to feel a bit easier about her little white cat, since she sat up there on top of the cupboard so quietly.
“Oh, no!” roared Joel, horribly disappointed. Then he looked at Polly’s face. “Yes, let’s play the Muffin Man,” he said.
“So we will, Joey,” cried Polly, smiling at him.
So Joel, feeling as if the Muffin Man was just the very nicest play in all the world, since Polly looked at him like that, scrambled into his place in the line, quite contented to let Davie be the Muffin Man and fill the post of honor.
“Phronsie ought to be that first,” said Polly, “and then Davie can be next—”
“All right,” said little David, tumbling out of the post of honor. So Phronsie was set there, but she didn’t like it, because then she had her back to the old cupboard, so of course she couldn’t see her little white cat. When Polly heard that, she gave the order for all the line to whirl over to the other side of the kitchen, with a “Hurry up, children,” to the two boys. “Now, then, Mr. Muffin Man, we’re going to see you; you must scamper and be ready for us—” which Phronsie did as fast as she could, but she didn’t pay much attention to her approaching guests, all her thoughts being on her little white cat. At last she could bear it no longer, and as the line was advancing, “We all know the Muffin Man—the Muffin—Man—the Muffin Man,” Joel shouting it out above the others with great gusto, she broke out—“Isn’t she ever coming down, Polly?”
“O dear me!” exclaimed Polly, who had almost forgotten the little white cat in the general glee. “Oh, yes, sometime. Now, let’s begin again. We all know the—”
But the Muffin Man suddenly deserted the post of honor and ran wailing over to the middle of the line coming to visit him. “Oh, I want her, Polly, I do!” in such a tone that Polly knew that something must be done to try to get the little white cat down from the top of that cupboard.
“Well, now, says I, I must get that kitty,” said Polly, gathering Phronsie up in her arms, and at her wit’s end to know how to do it. “Yes; there, don’t cry, Phronsie; I’ll try to get her down for you.”