It was impossible to describe the excitement now, and Polly felt warm little thrills at her heart to see it all.
“And don’t you think, boys and Phronsie,” she ran on gayly, “that the old woman in the brown cloak, who had mounted the sky carrying the green umbrella, peered down from under it; and when she saw what was going on she was very angry, and she cried great big tears, and she couldn’t stop, but kept crying and crying, and the tears grew bigger and bigger, and they fell all over her skinny hands, and washed the handle of the green umbrella out of them; for the tears fell over them so fast she couldn’t hold it, you know; and so away it fell down to earth again, down, down, till it came right on top of Araminta Sophia’s head.”
“And Ara—what is it, Polly?” cried Phronsie, greatly excited, “got her green umbrella again, didn’t she, Polly?”
“Yes,” said Polly, nodding her head briskly; “there it was, just as good as ever. So Araminta Sophia jumped up, and was just going off with her little basket she was to bring home the fish in, and carrying the green umbrella over her head, when the man with the big gun said, ‘Stay!’ so Araminta Sophia stopped right straight off where she was.
“‘Is that old woman in a brown cloak any relation of yours?’ for the old woman was coming down from the sky, and they could just see her cloak.
“‘Oh, no!’ said Araminta Sophia, looking out from under her green umbrella, and getting up closer to the man with the big gun; ‘she ran off with my green umbrella.’
“‘Flew off, you mean,’ said the man; ‘you should always say what you mean, child. Well now, old woman with the brown cloak, you have flown up there, and there you must stay.’
“‘Let me come down,’ squealed the old woman angrily; ‘get out of the way, and let me come down.’
“‘No, indeed,’ said the man, and he put his big gun to his shoulder; ‘you flew up there, and there you must stay, or I’ll shoot your head off.’”