“Don’t feel badly,” said Polly; “but wait and see if perfectly splendid times don’t come to Araminta Sophia. Well, there she sat, crying away on her stone, her little basket dangling on her arm, and the birds flying about her; and as soon as they saw the old woman mount up to the sky carrying the green umbrella, every single bird screamed right out, ‘Oh, come, the green umbrella’s gone! the green umbrella’s gone!’ and they all hopped down on Araminta Sophia’s head, till you couldn’t see anything but a heap of birds, and”—
“Oh, dear me!” cried all the boys again,—and, “Do make somebody come out and shoot them,” cried Joel in great excitement.
“Wait and see,” said Polly merrily. “Well, when Araminta Sophia felt all the birds hopping down on her head, she spoke up very humbly, ‘Oh, if you please, little birds, I should like to have you get off from my head.’
“‘We can’t,’ said one of the birds, peering at her with one eye; ‘for the old woman that has gone up into the sky won’t let us.’”
“She’s a bad old woman,” shouted Joel vindictively; “make something come and eat her up.”
“‘Please get off from my head,’ begged Araminta Sophia, and ‘We can’t, because the old woman up in the sky won’t let us,’ the birds kept saying; when suddenly, when no one was looking, along came a man with a big gun over his shoulder. ‘Ah, ha!’ he said, ‘now I’ll have those birds.’”
“Goody!” cried Joel, slapping his hands together smartly. “Oh! make him catch every single one, Polly.”
“Don’t let him hurt Aramin—what is her name, Polly?” begged Phronsie.
“Araminta Sophia. No, pet; she’s not to be hurt,” promised Polly, patting Phronsie’s yellow hair. “Well, up went the man’s big gun, and bang! bang! every single bird fell dead to the ground.”