"And Phronsie must come," said Polly, snipping away to get the paper
the right width. "O dear me, I can't cut it straight. Do you please
finish it, Jasper."
"That's all right," said Jasper, squinting at it critically, "only
--just this edge wants a little bit of trimming, Polly." And he snipped
off the offending points.
"I'll fetch Phronsie," cried Tom, springing off.
"And hurry," cried Polly and Jasper, together, after him.
"Polly," said Phronsie, as Tom came careering in with her on his
shoulder. "I want to write, too, I do," she cried, very much excited.
"Of course, you shall, Pet. That's just what we want you for," cried
Polly, clearing a place on the table; "there, do pull up a chair,
Jasper."
"Now, Phronsie, I think you would better begin, for you are the
littlest," and she flapped the long strip down in front of her.
"Oh, Polly, you begin," begged Tom.
"No, I think Phronsie ought to," said Polly, shaking her head.
"I want Polly to," said Phronsie, wriggling away from the pen that
Polly held out alluringly.
"But Polly wants you to," said Jasper. "I really would, Phronsie dear,
to please her."
To please Polly, being what Phronsie longed for next to pleasing
Mamsie, she gave a small sigh and took the pen in unsteady fingers.
"Wait a minute, Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "I believe we've
made a mistake, Jasper, and got the wrong sheet.
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