“Oh!” she cried, “you don’t know, grandma, how nice everybody thinks it is that we can have cherry-pie.”
“Do they?” said grandma kindly. “Well, I do hope the pie’s turned out well.”
Elsie noticed that some of the pie was left after all had been served. A bright idea darted into her head, and she was out of the room in a trice. On went cloak and hood, and she dashed around the corner to see if she could find Maude. Yes, there she was, playing with her blanketed doggie on the broad sidewalk.
“Come!” cried Elsie, catching hold of Maude’s hand. “Come quick! There’s lots of cherry-pie! Come and have some!”
As they neared Millie’s house they met that little girl on the walk, and she was easily persuaded to join the party.
“Now,” said Elsie, running on in advance, “let’s get Sammie and Lizy, and those other ones.”
They flew down the street, and soon found the objects of their search. The watchword, “cherry-pie,” was sufficient, and in the twinkling of an eye, they were at Grandma Perch’s door. Then, for the first time, Elsie felt a little misgiving. Perhaps there wasn’t pie enough to go round. And what would grandma say?
But she marched bravely in, her eager little crowd of companions at her heels.
“See here, grandma,” she said, “here are a lot of children who want some cherry-pie.”
“Dear heart!” exclaimed grandma, in dismay, looking down at the motley group with lifted hands. “Why, Elsie! there isn’t pie enough for more’n three little pieces, but, bless ’em!” for the look on some of those pinched, hungry faces went to grandma’s heart, in the abundance and mirth of her own Christmas day, “I’ll have a cherry-pie made for ’em in less’n no time. There’s pie-crust in my pan, and the oven is hot; just go out and play, children, and I’ll call you in presently.”