“‘I thought so,’ said Lucy Ann. ‘Now, do you run all through the wood, and give my invitation to every bird and squirrel you see, and every snake and hop-toad, and every chipmunk and woodchuck, and tell them to come to-night as soon as the moon gets up. Hang up the watering-pot on the first crotch of the tree you find going down, and run as fast as you can.’”
“Oh! oh!” screamed the Whitney boys in glee.
“Didn’t I tell you ’twas a prime story?” cried Joel, punching Van, who never could get so far away as to be beyond his fingers.
“Ow! Be still!” said Van, edging off again.
“So Betserilda did as she was bid, and hung up the watering-pot on the first crotch of the tree she could find underneath Lucy Ann’s Garden, and then away she ran on the tips of her toes into the wood again. And pretty soon every squirrel and bird and hop-toad and snake and chipmunk had his invitation, and”—
“You left out the woodchuck,” said Ben; “poor thing, do let him come to that wonderful party, Polly.”
“Of course he came,” cried Polly gayly; “we wouldn’t let him be forgotten, and so”—
“Couldn’t the poor dear sweet little brown worms come, Polly?” asked Phronsie, leaning anxiously forward.
“Dear me, yes,” cried Polly, catching sight of Phronsie’s face; “of course those nice angle-worms came. We wouldn’t leave them out for all the world. Well, and in a minute or two every one of the people, I mean the wood-creatures, were dressing up and combing their hair, and”—
“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy in distress, “now I know this story can’t be true; because squirrels don’t comb their hair, and birds, and”—