"Now may we harness Brownie?" asked Polly.
"Now you may," said father.
He drew out the new, red sled. He put on Brownie's little harness. He
helped the children harness her to the sled.
They jumped in. Polly had the reins. She said, "Get up, Brownie," and
Brownie walked out of the yard.
"First, we will show grandmother," said Polly. "Brownie is grandmother's
present. She must see us driving her."
They stopped in front of grandmother's house. Peter went in to call her
to the door. Polly held Brownie.
"Well, well," said grandmother, "that is nice. What a pretty sled you
have. I like the color."
"We helped to make it," said Polly. "We wished you to see us first. We
are going to show the children now. Hear our pretty sleigh bells.
Good-by."
Down the hill Brownie trotted. Her bells jingled softly. She went across
the railroad track and into the bridge.
Some of the village children were looking over the railing. They were
watching men cutting ice.
When they saw Peter and Polly, they cried, "Here comes the pony! See
Peter and Polly! Look at the red sled! Give us a ride! Oh, give us a
ride!"
"Yes, we will," said Polly. "Come up on the street, where it is smooth.
Two of you get in with us. We will take two more by and by."
Polly could drive quite well. She had often driven father's horse, when
father took her with him. She let each child hold Brownie's reins.
"Let more ride at once," said one of the girls. "There is room in the
sled."
"No," said Polly. "The pony is strong, but she is little. I will not
let her drag more than four. And two are enough, going uphill."
So they trotted up and down the street. Sometimes the boys and girls who
were not riding ran by Brownie's side. Brownie seemed to enjoy the fun
as much as any of them.
At last it was time to go home. The children all patted the pony. This
was to thank her for the good time she had given them. Then Peter and
Polly drove away, up the hill.
Mother came out of the house. She said, "Do you think you can do an
errand for me? Can you drive to the creamery? I wish some buttermilk.
Here is a pail for it."
"What fun," said Polly. "Yes, of course, we can do that. You hold the
pail, Peter."
Down the hill they trotted again. At the creamery, Polly took the pail.
She went inside.