“Well, at first it was just as still,” said Polly, dropping her voice to a little whisper, “you can’t think how still it was, Joey Pepper. Not a creature was stirring, and”—
“Why didn’t she shut the door,” cried Joel, “when she went out, and put the key in her pocket? Say, Polly?”
“Why, there wasn’t any key,” said Polly, racing along. “Now, you mustn’t stop me any more, Joe, else I never’ll get through.”
“Mr. Nutcracker wasn’t a nice man at all, I think,” said Joel in great disapproval, “if he couldn’t give ’em a key. Was he, Polly?”
“You’ll see,” said Polly, redoubling her speed.
“Well, when Mrs. Nutcracker ran along so swiftly, being in such a hurry, you see, her great long train to her dress swept out and”—
“Is it a train of cars?” asked Joel, his eyes sticking out as far as possible. “O Polly! I’ve never seen ’em, ’cept in a picture.”
“No,” said Polly. Then she burst out laughing, “How could a train of cars be hanging on Mrs. Nutcracker’s dress, Joe? Dear me, that would be funny!”
“You said train,” declared Joel, dreadfully disappointed.
“I know; but this is different. It’s something made like the rest of the dress, and it hangs off when the one who’s got the dress on walks, and she can swish it around perfectly splendidly; just like this, Joel Pepper,” and [Polly] hopped to her feet, and [began to parade up and down the old kitchen floor], holding an imaginary trailing gown, and then letting it fall like a peacock’s tail as it swept the ground, while she held her head high, and sailed off.