“Oh, ho,” Phronsie laughed gleefully, “how funny!”
[So one of Mamsie’s old cloth slippers was tied on to Phronsie’s little foot] with a bit of string through the middle, the children one and all protesting that it looked like an old black pudding-bag; [and Polly began] again, “Now,” she said absently, “I’ll tell you about the little white chicken—just as soon as I have—oh, dear me! let me see if I have all my things ready.” She wrinkled her brows and thought a minute. Joel kicked his heels impatiently against the table-side, while Davie clasped his hands tight so as not to say anything to worry Polly.
“Yes, I believe they’re all here,” said Polly, after what seemed an age to the children. “Well, there now, children, I’m ready to begin on the story. Oh, let me see, all but the big bowl;” and she ran into the buttery and brought it out, and began to mix the cake with quite an important air. Phronsie drew a long breath of delight that ended in a happy little crow. “You must know that the white chicken made up her mind that she would go into Susan’s playhouse, although”—
“You told that,” interrupted Joel, filliping at the dish where the raisins, with a plentiful sprinkling of flour, lay ready to lend their magnificence to Mamsie’s birthday cake; “go on where you left off, Polly.”
“You said she saw a black object over in the corner,” said Davie, with big eyes; “tell about that.”
“Oh, yes, so I did!” said Polly; “now, Joe, you mustn’t touch the raisins. Every single one must go into Mamsie’s cake.”
Joel drew away his hand; but it was impossible not to regard the plate, on which he kept his gaze fastened.
“Well, in crept the little white chicken,” said Polly tragically, and stirring briskly the cake-mixture with the long wooden spoon, “hoping the black object wouldn’t see her. She had to go in you see, because just outside the door, coming under the apple-trees, was a noise, and it sounded very much like a boy; and the little white chicken had rather be scared by a black object in the corner inside, than to let that boy spy her. So she crept in very softly, and was just beginning to tuck up her feet and sit down behind the door, when the black object stirred, and over went the little white chicken all in a heap.”
Joel gave a grunt of great satisfaction, and tore his eyes from the raisin-plate.
“What was it?” gasped Davie fearfully, and getting nearer to Polly’s side. Phronsie kept her wide eyes on Polly’s face, and sat quite still, her little hands folded in her lap.