"I should let it alone," said mother. "Perhaps it will grow tight again."
But Peter could not seem to let it alone. He wiggled it with his tongue. He wiggled it with his fingers. At last he made it very loose.
Then he said, "Polly, I must pull my tooth."
"Oh, let it come out," said Polly. "Two of mine did."
"No," said Peter. "I shall pull it. You pulled one of yours with your fingers. I shall do that."
But the loose tooth would not come out.
"It will not pull," said Peter. "I shall put a string on it. I shall tie the end of the string to the door. Then I shall shut the door hard. It will pull my tooth. You did that."
"Yes," said Polly. "That was fun. But I know a better way now. I will show it to you."
She took a flatiron. She tied a string to it. She set it on the kitchen table. Then she tied the other end of the string to Peter's loose tooth.
She said, "This string is too short to reach the floor. You push the flatiron off the table. It will fall down and jerk out your tooth."