“In the window of the little shop, just like Mr. Beebe’s, only it wasn’t Mr. Beebe’s,” said Polly.
“And was my dear, sweet Mrs. Beebe in there, and all the little shoes?” demanded Phronsie excitedly.
“No, no, Pet; I said it wasn’t Mr. Beebe’s shop, so of course Mrs. Beebe wasn’t there, nor the shoes,” answered Polly; “but it was like Mr. Beebe’s.”
“Did it have a green door?” asked Joel, “and a big knocker that went clang—clang—like this?” and he jumped up and sent out his arm after an imaginary brass knocker hanging on a big green door.
“Yes,” said Polly. “I guess my shop-door had a big knocker on it, all shiny like Mr. Beebe’s.”
“Your shop? oh! is it your shop?” broke in little Davie incredulously. “O Polly!”
“Of course it’s my shop,” cried Polly gayly, “’cause I make it up out of my head, so I own all the things in it too.”
“Oh! give me some of the candy then,” howled Joel, plunging into the middle of the group. “I want some right away, Polly.”
“Why, I’m giving you some now,” said Polly, laughing at his face. The children all looked puzzled enough.
“You see, you’re getting some of the pink and white sticks in the story; and if I didn’t make it up, you couldn’t have any. Now you must just play you’re eating candy. My, isn’t it nice!” Polly held up long imaginary pink and white sticks, and took a good bite off from one of them.