sleep over, child. Now, then, Phronsie, let us help her to get
dressed."

Wasn't there a merry time, though, for the next half-hour, till Polly
had had her bath, and was arrayed, Mother Fisher and Phronsie here,
there, and everywhere, helping to tie and to hook Polly's clothes
--Phronsie bringing her little silver button-hook that Auntie Whitney
gave her, declaring that she should button Polly's boots.

"Oh, no, child," protested Polly. "I'll button them myself," flying off
for the boots.

But Phronsie piped out, hurrying after her, "I have them, Polly," and,
sure enough, there they were, one under each arm; "do let me, Polly--do,
please!" she begged.

"I would, Polly," advised Mrs. Fisher, "for Phronsie really has set her
heart on doing it."

So Polly sat down in the low chair, and put out her foot, feeling very
queer indeed, and as if she ought to be doing up Phronsie's boots
instead. And Phronsie curled up on the floor, and patiently drew every
one of the buttons into place, and buttoned them fast. And then on with
the other boot.

"There, now, I did do them all by myself," she announced, getting up
from the floor, and smoothing down her gown with much importance. "I
did truly, Polly."

"So you did, Pet," cried Polly, sticking out both feet to look at them.