“Every single one, Polly?” asked Phronsie, a little flush stealing over her cheek.
“Every single one,” declared Polly positively. “Lucy Ann dug them all up, and Betserilda put them in the flower-basket, and then they covered them with moss, and then they both took hold of the handle again; but they didn’t start to go back until Lucy Ann had most politely invited all the birds and squirrels to come and visit her garden.”
“And would they come, Polly?” cried Phronsie greatly excited.
“To be sure; yes, indeed,” said Polly. “Every one of them said ‘Thank you;’ and every one of them said they would, and they’d bring all their friends.”
“Oh, how nice!” cried Phronsie; and she sank back in great satisfaction in the corner of her seat.
“Well, when everything was at last ready in Lucy Ann’s Garden, and Betserilda had brought the big water-pot, and watered it all over, and every little leaf was pulled and patted out, and nothing more was left to be done, Lucy Ann sat down a minute to think, [and she put her head in her hands, like this];” down went Polly’s brown head, and everything was still a minute.
