“No; that is—I was naughty,” said Polly, waking out of her dream.
“Oh, you’re not naughty, Polly,” cried Phronsie, kissing her. “You couldn’t be.”
“Yes, I was,” declared Polly; “just as naughty as I could be, and I ought to be put in the corner.”
The idea of Polly’s being put in the corner so astonished the children that no one spoke, so she plunged into the story as fast as she could. “Well, now, you know the little thin man I told you about over in the other corner, who gave Polly parrot a cracker, had a”—
“Yes, I know,” said Phronsie, patting her pinafore in a satisfied way. “He was a nice man, Polly, and I like him.”
“Well, he had a big black dog with him, and it was under his seat.”
“Oh, dear!” cried all the children together.
“Yes; well, there were some other passengers in the stage-coach, and”—
“Never mind about them, tell about the big black dog,” begged Joel.