But Mother Pepper said “No,” again; that they must all wait till after dinner, and the dishes were washed up and the floor swept. Then if Phronsie wanted to divide her peppermints, why, that would be the best time of all.
So there was a merry bustle to see who would get through the part of the work that belonged to each one. And there was so much fun and laughter that any one peering in at the little brown house would really have supposed that play was going on. At last it was all done, and Mamsie, over in the corner sewing on one of the coats that Polly had brought home in the bundle, declared that everything was very nice, and that she couldn’t have done it any better herself.
“Now the peppermints,” cried Joel, running away from the sink where he had been scrubbing his hands and polishing them on the big roller towel. “Now, O goody!” He ran over to Phronsie, still clinging to her paper bag.
“Let’s all sit down on the floor,” proposed Polly. So down the whole four of them got in a ring, each one drawing a long breath of anticipation.
“I’m going to give Mamsie one first,” announced Phronsie, slowly beginning to open the paper bag.
“Let’s see how many you’ve got, Phronsie,” said Joel, putting out an impatient hand.
“Don’t, Joey,” said Polly, seizing his hand; “let Phronsie open her own bag.”
“I’ll open my bag,” hummed Phronsie, suiting the action to the word. Then she drew out a peppermint drop, a pink one.
“She’s so slow,” said Joel, impatiently. “Turn up the bag, do, Phronsie.”
“Let her do it her own way, Joey,” said Polly; “they are her peppermints and we must all wait.”