"I think that is cruel," she said. "What do the poor things do to beat
off the flies, pray tell?"

"Flies?" said Mother Fisher. "I don't suppose they ever see a fly here,
Polly."

"They'd chase one worse than the dirt, I guess," said the little
doctor.

"Oh," said Polly, with a sigh of relief.

"Come, Polly, let us go into the cheese room," suggested Jasper,
peering in, for everything was connected and under one roof. "There's a
man in there, and he is telling something;" so they skipped in, while
Phronsie was bewailing that there were no cows there, and where were
they?

"Why, Phronsie, they are all out in the fields. You wouldn't have them
shut up this hot day," said Grandpapa.

"No," said Phronsie, swallowing the lump in her throat, "I wouldn't,
Grandpapa; I'd much rather know they are having a nice time. I don't
want them in here, I truly don't."

"That's a nice child," said old Mr. King, approvingly. "Well, now,
we'll see how they make these wonderful Edam cheeses, Phronsie."

"I shall call this place the Cheesery," announced Polly, running about
between the vats and the big press.