“A pedigree isn’t a tail, you idiot,” said Ned, scathingly. “She’s awfully pretty, Polly. Will she bite?”
“Of course not! At least, not unless you look like a cabbage-leaf.”
“I wouldn’t take a chance,” Laurie advised. “Any one who’s as green as you are—”
“She tries to eat ’most everything,” said Polly, “but she likes cabbage and lettuce and carrots best.”
“I wish I had a cabbage,” muttered Laurie, searching his pockets; “or a carrot. You haven’t a carrot with you, have you, Ned?”
“You’re the silliest boys!” laughed Polly, returning Antoinette to her box. “Let’s go and sit down a minute.” And when they were on the seat under the arbor and she had smoothed her skirt and tucked a pair of rather soiled white canvas shoes from sight, she announced, “There! Now you can make up a verse about something!”
CHAPTER X—POLLY ENTERTAINS
“Make up a—what did you say?” asked Ned.
“Make up a verse,” answered Polly, placidly. “As you did the other day when you went out. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh!” Laurie looked somewhat embarrassed and a trifle silly. “Why, you see—we only do that when—when—”