If Polly had thought of “something just too splendid for anything,” that altered matters, and after all, the party might be quite worth while. So Joel ran and got the broom back on its nail—then he was back.
“What is it—what is it?” he cried, his black eyes sparkling.
“He called me a mud-turtle,” said Peletiah over in the chair backed up against the wall, “and I’m going home.”
“Oh, no,” Polly ran over to stand in front of him. “Company never goes home from a party till it’s over. Besides, we’re going to play perfectly splendid things, and there’s the refreshments.”
“Refreshments!” howled Joel, “are there going to be refreshments! Oh, I do want a party, Polly, I do,” and he swarmed all over her.
“Don’t, Joel,” she said in vexation. O dear, and it was to be such a surprise, and now she’d told before it was time!
“They’re in the cupboard, the refreshments are,” said Joel, springing off to the corner. “I know they are.”
“Joel, you mustn’t,” cried Polly, flying after to stop him. But she was too late! He flung open the door of the old cupboard, and there on the shelf was the custard pie, and beside it three cups and a pitcher.
“A pie!” screamed Joel, his nose wrinkling up, and he stood on his tiptoes to reach it. “Oh, I want some now. Do let me, Polly.”
“For shame, Joel,” cried Polly angrily. “Come right straight away.” She seized his calico blouse.