"You buttoned every single one of those buttons up splendidly, Phronsie
Pepper. Now my toes will be just as happy all day; oh, you can't think
how happy they'll be." And she seized her, half smothering her with
kisses.

"Will they?" cried Phronsie, coming out of the embrace to peer up into
Polly's face, in a transport. "Will your toes really and truly be
happy, Polly?"

"They'll be so happy," declared Polly, with a little wriggle of each
foot, "that they'll want to sing, only they can't," and she burst out
into a little laugh.

"Put on your blue dress, Polly," said Mother Fisher, coming out of the
closet to hurry operations a bit.

"Oh, Mamsie," begged Phronsie, "mayn't Polly wear her white one? Do,
Mamsie, please!" She ran up to her mother pleadingly.

"Polly will wear a white gown to-night," said Mother Fisher, her eyes
shining, and the same funny little smile hiding in the corners of her
mouth; "but this morning she would better put on her blue gingham."

"Yes, that's best," said Polly, reassuringly, running off to get it out
of the big bureau drawer. "It's all done up spick and span," drawing it
out. "Mamsie, don't these Dutch women do up things well, though?"

"They do, indeed," assented Mrs. Fisher, with a critical eye for the
blue gingham; "but I really suppose the Swiss beat them, Polly."