"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.
"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.
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