"Deary me," said Susy, pushing back her cap, and trying to look frightened, "how was she taken, ma'am?"
"Taken?" repeated Prudy, "taken sick! She's got it all over her."
"Poor little creeter!" cried Grace, rolling up her eyes, "how she must suffer! I hope she's out of her head. Does she have her senses, ma'am?"
"Her what?" said Prudy. "O, yes'm, she's got 'em. I laid 'em up on the shelf, to keep 'em for her."
Here the two visitors turned away their heads to laugh. "What do you s'pose my present will be?" said Prudy, forgetting their play. "Look here, Susy, I could take that vase now, and smash it right down on the floor, and break it, and grandma wouldn't scold—'cause I'm sick, you know."
"But you wouldn't do it," said Grace. "O, here come Mr. Allen and aunt Madge. Now, Mrs. Prudy, you're going to have a ride."
Mr. Allen laughed to see aunt Madge bundle Prudy so much, and said the child would be so heavy that he could not carry her in his arms; but I think he found her only too light after all.
Prudy almost forgot how hungry she was when she was seated in her little carriage and wheeled about the pleasant yard. She had an idea that the trees and the flowers in the garden were having good times, and the open windows of the house looked as if they were laughing. But she did not say much, and when aunt Madge asked her what made her so quiet, she said she was "a-thinkin'." And the most of her small thoughts were about her present.
"Now," said Mr. Allen, "I'm going to hold you up so you can peep over into the pig-pen. There, do you see that little mite of a white piggy?"
"O, dear, dear, dear!" cried Prudy, clapping her hands, "what a cunning little piggy-wiggy! He looks nice enough to eat right up! I never did see such a darling! O, he winks his eyes—see him! He ain't dead, is he? Not a mite?"