"That isn't nice, ma," she said, glancing at the poor old pail, which
she had brought out of the "Provision Room." "Old brown bread! I
want to fix 'em something nice."

"Well, you can't, you know," said Mrs. Pepper, with a sigh; "but
you've got butter now; that'll be splendid!"

"I know it," said Polly, running to the corner cupboard where the
precious morsel in the blue bowl remained; "whatever ~hou1d we
do without it, mummy?"

"Do without it!" said Mrs. Pepper; "same's we have done."

"Well, 'twas splendid in Mrs. Henderson to give it to us, anyway,"
said Polly, longing for just one taste; "seems as if 'twas a year since
I was there--oh, ma!" and here Polly took up the thread that had
been so rudely snapped; "don't you think, she's got ten of the
prettiest--yes, the sweetest little chickens you ever saw! Why can't
we have some, mammy?"

"Costs money," replied Mrs. Pepper. "We've got too many in the
house to have any outside."

"Oh, dear," said Polly, with a red face that was toasting about as
much as the bread she was holding on the point of an old fork; "we
never have had anything. There," she added at last; "that's the best
I can do; now I'll put the butter on this little blue plate; ain't that
cunning, ma?"