"Just suppose you climb this ladder and do your best to reach up and cut off the skirt while I stand below and catch her as she drops," puffed Mother Grunty as she came up to them.
"Your new kindergarten dress!" sighed Mother Porky as she climbed the ladder and waited for Mother Grunty to hand her the shears. But it was not very easy to reach so high and to cut that stout cloth with its heavy burden dragging at it. "Clip—snip—snap—snip—clip!" went the shears.
"Getting it?" asked Mother Grunty. "Clip—snip—snap—clip!" again went the shears, and down plumped Pinky into her arms with such a force that both of them fell heavily to the ground.
"Do you know, I had forgotten all about Little-tot!" spoke up Mother Porky as she climbed down the ladder.
"Oh, she's all right. She's still coloring away, I guess," soothed Mother Grunty as the little procession walked gravely up the path to the shed where the ladder and shears were put away. Then into the house filed the same silent four, Pinky in her ragged skirt bringing up the rear.
It was very quiet indeed in Mother Grunty's kitchen. "Where is she!" This time Mother Porky's voice was full of anxious tears. "Little-tot, where are you?" she groaned.
"Wite here, Mudder," came a happy, chirping voice from behind the pantry door. Then, as the door swung open, Mother Porky sank right down onto the wash bench and covered her face with her hands!
"Stand still, Little-tot," begged good, patient Mother Grunty. "Stand still like a good little girl until Aunty can help you."
If ever a youngster needed help Little-tot was the one. For you will scarcely believe what I have to tell you. There stood Little-tot, her face and hands and dress and shoes just painted with dripping molasses, while her feet were stuck fast in the pool of molasses that was slowly widening on Mother Grunty's pantry floor.
"What were you trying to do?" Mother Grunty asked as she put on her oilcloth apron and armed herself with sponges and washbasin and towels.