"Wedding clothes?" asked Mrs. Fisher, speaking very
slowly.
The old woman seemed to understand the one word "wedding," for she
nodded furiously and smiled well pleased; and then devoted her whole
time and energy to the display of the garments. And she even laughed
aloud when old Mr. King put some coins in her hard hand.
Polly took the time to study her headgear. "I think there is a round
board under the cap," she confided to Jasper when once out of doors;
"how else could they be pulled so tight? And they look as hard as a
drum."
"I didn't investigate," he said, laughing. "I'll leave that to you,
Polly."
"Well, it's funny anyway," she said, "that all the women and girls
dress alike in those queer gowns in two parts, and those embroidered
jackets over their waists, and those caps and horrible pot-hooks and
long curls."
"It's well that we've got so many pictures, for the people at home
would never believe our stories without them."
"And these houses," continued Polly, squinting up at a crooked row,
"all colours--green stripes and black stripes--and, O dear me! Jasper
King, just look at Phronsie!"
Jasper followed the direction of Polly's finger. There sat Phronsie on
a grassy bank a little above them, with one of the fattest Marken
babies in her lap. A variegated group of natives was near by, watching
her intently. But Phronsie didn't appear to notice them.
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