“No; he couldn’t tie it,” said Polly, “because you see there were no strings to his bag.”
“Oh!” said Phronsie, sinking back very much relieved.
“He gripped the edges together fast, and—but the little kangarooses had cunning little places they could stick their noses out,” she hastened to add, as she caught sight of Phronsie’s face. “Oh! they liked it ever so much. And then the old father kangaroo would run—oh, such dreadful big steps he would take, Phronsie, you can’t think, as big as all across this bed in one hop!”
Phronsie’s eyes widened delightedly, and she gave a long sigh of content.
“Tell me some more,” she begged.
“Well, one day Mr. Father Kangaroo was out in the forest getting dinner. He had short little wee feet in front, and he couldn’t walk very fast you see. And”—
“Where was the mother kan—what was it, Polly?” interrupted Phronsie. “Tell me, Polly, do.”
“Kangaroo? Oh, she was in the house, working away. You see, with so many children-kangarooses, Phronsie, there was lots and lots to do,” said Polly, growing quite desperate at the thought of Mother Pepper sewing out there in the old kitchen, and all the dishes not yet washed, and everything else at a standstill. “Now, you lie still, and perhaps you’ll go to sleep while I tell the rest.”
“I can’t go to sleep,” said Phronsie, putting up her lip sorrowfully.