BOOKS BY
MARGARET SIDNEY
A LITTLE MAID OF CONCORD TOWN
_Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill_ _Price, $1.50_
A LITTLE MAID OF BOSTON TOWN
_Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill_ _Price, $1.50_
THE FAMOUS PEPPER BOOKS
IN ORDER OF PUBLICATION
_Eleven Volumes_ _Illustrated_ _Price per volume, $1.50_
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND HOW THEY GREW
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS MIDWAY
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS GROWN UP
PHRONSIE PEPPER
THE STORIES POLLY PEPPER TOLD
THE ADVENTURES OF JOEL PEPPER
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS ABROAD
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AT SCHOOL
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND THEIR FRIENDS
BEN PEPPER
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS IN THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON
[Illustration: Polly telling her stories.
“_So one of Mamsie’s bed-slippers was tied on Phronsie’s little sore
foot, and Polly began_”--]
THE STORIES
POLLY PEPPER TOLD
TO THE
_FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS IN THE
LITTLE BROWN HOUSE_
BY
MARGARET SIDNEY
AUTHOR OF “FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND HOW THEY GREW,”
“A LITTLE MAID OF CONCORD TOWN,” ETC., ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY
JESSIE McDERMOTT and ETHELDRED B. BARRY_
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE AND SHEPARD CO.
[Illustration: PEPPER TRADE-MARK]
Registered in U. S. Patent Office.
COPYRIGHT, 1899,
BY
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY
_All rights reserved._
_Forty-fourth Thousand._
TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PETERS & SON, BOSTON.
PRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH.
TO
MARGARET MULFORD LOTHROP
WHO REPRESENTS TO THOSE WHO
KNOW HER, BOTH THE
“POLLY” AND THE “PHRONSIE”
OF THE
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED.
PREFATORY NOTE.
The author has received from mothers and other persons interested in
the Pepper Family, so many requests for the Stories told by Polly
Pepper (to which frequent allusion has been made in the Series called
the “Five Little Peppers’” Books), that this initial volume of Polly’s
earlier stories has been prepared in obedience to these requests.
WAYSIDE, CONCORD, MASS.
_March, 1899._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE LITTLE WHITE CHICKEN 9
II. THE PRINCESS ESMERALDA’S BALL 25
III. THE STORY OF THE CIRCUS 43
IV. THE LITTLE TIN SOLDIERS 61
V. CHRISTMAS AT THE BIG HOUSE 72
VI. MR. FATHER KANGAROO AND THE FAT LITTLE BIRD 86
VII. THE MINCE-PIE BOY AND THE BEASTS 99
VIII. THE CUNNING LITTLE DUCK 116
IX. THE OLD TEA-KETTLE 129
X. THE PINK AND WHITE STICKS 146
XI. THE OLD STAGE-COACH 160
XII. MR. NUTCRACKER; THE STORY THAT WASN’T A STORY 176
XIII. MR. NUTCRACKER 196
XIV. THE RUNAWAY PUMPKIN 214
XV. THE ROBBERS AND THEIR BAGS 229
XVI. POLLY PEPPER’S CHICKEN-PIE 254
XVII. PHRONSIE PEPPER’S NEW SHOES 272
XVIII. THE OLD GRAY GOOSE 295
XIX. THE GREEN UMBRELLA 309
XX. THE GREEN UMBRELLA AND THE QUEER LITTLE MAN 331
XXI. THE LITTLE SNOW-HOUSE 358
XXII. LUCY ANN’S GARDEN 381
XXIII. THE CHINA MUG 405
XXIV. BROWN BETTY 419
XXV. THE SILLY LITTLE BROOK 437
XXVI. DOWN IN THE ORCHARD 451
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Polly telling her stories. _Frontispiece._
“Take me, Polly,” implored Phronsie. 12
“And--he--saw--the--bear.” 22
Polly threw her arms around Ben. 31
“In came the Princess Esmeralda.” 35
“The circus story,” said Polly, “is about so many best and
splendid things that you must keep quite still.” 45
“Where’s the Circus-man?” asked the great big man. 57
Ben was mending Mother Pepper’s washboard. 63
The little tin soldiers. 66
Grandpapa had taken out all the papers. 74
Joel laid his head in Polly’s lap and burst out crying. 82
“I want my Mamsie!” cried poor Phronsie. 87
“What’s the matter down there?” asked Mr. Kangaroo. 93
The two pulled out the kitchen table. 101
The mince-pie boy and the beasts. 109
“O Polly!” she cried, scuttling over to her. 112
Joel came racing back. 119
The cunning little duck. 122
“Dear me, yes,” said Mrs. Pepper. 130
“Mind the house, now,” she said to the cat. 141
She crept into Polly’s lap, and put her little hand up on
her neck. 152
The pink and white sticks. 157
“Take care, Joe,” she warned. 161
The old stage-coach. 165
So Polly smoothed and patted his stubby head in a way that
Joel liked. 179
“You are scaring that poor old man most to death,” said
Polly. 186
Polly began to parade up and down the old kitchen floor. 201
And the pigs wouldn’t go the way he wanted ’em to. 205
“I guess I’ll tell you of the Runaway Pumpkin,” said Polly. 216
“Pumpkin! say, Pumpkin, don’t you hear me?” 225
Mrs. Whitney heard the noise, and ran in to see what the
fun was. 243
The robbers and their bags. 247
Ben grasped it tightly under one arm and flew home. 255
The old gray goose holds a conversation with the black
chicken. 262
“Oh! I am so hungry, Polly.” 275
“Phronsie Pepper’s new shoes.” 282
And there was the shoe tumbled right over her nose. 292
“You said so, Polly Pepper,” cried little Dick with big
eyes. 298
Sally Brown and the old gray goose. 305
“Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, “you needn’t tell any story just
now.” 311
“Go right away! my daughter makes all the music I want.” 318
“Look within!” screamed the old woman. 323
“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the door of
Jasper’s den. 337
Phronsie smoothed down her white apron in satisfaction. 344
The umbrella runs away with the queer little man. 353
The boys bringing home the meal and potatoes. 368
The little snow-house. 373
Lucy Ann’s garden. 391
She put her head in her hands, like this. 394
Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet brown paper from
his eye. 407
The beautiful man and the lovely lady on the china mug. 410
“O Polly, a hundred ants!” cried little Dick with an
absorbed face. 424
Brown Betty and the ants. 429
Phronsie shook her yellow head mournfully. 442
The birds and the silly little brook. 446
“’Twas as big as this!” 459
The Little White Rabbit and Mister Fox. 464
THE STORIES POLLY PEPPER TOLD TO THE FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS.
I.
THE LITTLE WHITE CHICKEN.
“You see,” said Polly, “the little white chicken was determined she
_would_ go into Susan’s playhouse.”
Phronsie sat in Mamsie’s big calico-covered rocking-chair. The last
tear had trailed off the round cheek since Polly had come home and was
by her side, holding her hand. The pounded toes were thrust out before
her, tied up in an old cloth, and waiting for the wormwood which was
steeping on the fire. Grandma Bascom, protesting that soon Phronsie
wouldn’t know that she had any toes, sank into a chair and beamed at
her. “You pretty creeter, you,” she cried, her cap-border bobbing
heartily.
“I wish she wouldn’t talk,” grunted Joel, burrowing on the floor, his
head in Polly’s lap, where her soft fingers could smooth his stubby
black hair.
“’Sh!” said Polly, with a warning pinch.
“Go on,” begged Davie, hanging over her chair, intent as Phronsie on
the fate of the white chicken; “did she go in, Polly; did she?”
Phronsie sat still, her eyes on Polly’s face, her fat little hands
clasped in her lap, while she held her breath for the answer.
“Dear me, yes,” cried Polly quickly; “she stretched her neck like
this,” suiting the action to the word, for Polly always acted out, as
much as she could, all her stories, particularly on emergencies like
the present one, “and peered around the corner. Susan wasn’t there, for
she was up at the house sitting on a stool and sewing patchwork. But
there was a black object over in the corner, and”--
“Oh, you pretty creeter, you!” exclaimed Grandma suddenly, at
Phronsie, on whom she had gazed unceasingly, “so you did pound your
toes--there--there--you pretty creeter!”
“Ugh--ugh! make her stop,” howled Joel, twitching up his head from its
soft nest. “Oh, dear, we can’t hear anything. Stop her, Polly, do.”
“Joel,” said Polly, “hush this minute; just think how good she’s been,
and the raisins. O Joey!”
“They are dreadful hard,” grumbled Joel; but he slipped his head back
on Polly’s lap, wishing her fingers would smooth his hair again. But
they didn’t; so he burrowed deeper, and tried not to cry. Meanwhile
Phronsie, with a troubled expression settling over her face at this
condition of things, made as though she would slip from the old chair.
“Take me, Polly,” she begged, holding out her arms.
“Oh, no, you mustn’t, you pretty creeter,” declared Grandma, getting
out of her chair to waddle over to the scene, her cap-border trembling
violently, “you’ll hurt your toes. You must set where you be till you
get the wormwood on.” And Davie running over to put his arms around
Phronsie and beg her to keep still, the little old kitchen soon became
in great confusion till it seemed as if the white chicken must be left
for all time, peering in at Susan’s playhouse and the black object in
the corner.
“Oh, dear me!” cried Polly at her wit’s end; “now you see, Joey.
Whatever shall I do?”
“Take me, Polly,” implored Phronsie, leaning out of the big chair at
the imminent danger of falling on her nose, and two tears raced over
her round cheeks. At sight of these, Polly suddenly lifted her out and
over to her lap, Joel deserting that post in a trice, and wishing he
was Phronsie so that he could cry and be comforted.
[Illustration: “Take me, Polly,” implored Phronsie.]
“Dear, dear, dear!” exclaimed Grandma Bascom gustily, trotting off to
the tin cup with the wormwood steeping on the stove. “She must have the
wormwood on. Whatever’ll become of her toes if she don’t set still, I
d’no. There, there, she’s a pretty creeter.”
“I don’t want any on,” said Phronsie from her nest in Polly’s arms, and
contentedly snuggling down. “Please don’t let her put any on, Polly,”
she whispered up against her neck.
“I’ll put it on,” said Polly soothingly. “Well, now, Phronsie,” patting
the yellow head, and with an anxious look up at the old clock, “you
know I can’t bake Mamsie’s birthday cake unless you have that wormwood
on and sit in her chair like a good girl. And then think how very
dreadful it would be to have Mamsie come home and it shouldn’t be done.
Oh, I can’t think of such a thing!” Polly’s hand dropped away from the
yellow hair, and fell to her lap, as she sat quite still.
Phronsie lifted her head and looked at her. “I’ll have the wet stuff
on, Polly, and sit in the chair,” she said, with a long sigh; “lift me
back, Polly, do; then you can bake Mamsie’s cake.”
So Phronsie was lifted back with great ado, Polly kissing her many
times, and telling her how glad she would be on the morrow when
Mamsie’s birthday cake would be a beautiful success, and how happy
Mamsie would be to know that Phronsie helped to bake it by being such a
good girl. And the little toes were wet with the wormwood, and tied up
in an old cloth; and Grandma Bascom, dropping the tin cup which she was
bearing back to the stove, with a clatter on the floor, created such a
diversion as Polly and the boys ran to get cloths and spoons to save
the precious wormwood and wipe the floor clean, that the little old
kitchen rang with the noise, and it was some time before Polly could
get it quieted down again.
At last Polly drew a long breath. “Well, now, children, if you’ll be
very still I’ll tell you the rest about the white chicken, while I’m
making Mamsie’s cake. And I’ll pull your chair, Phronsie, up to the
table so you can see me.”
“Let me, let me!” screamed Joel, hopping up to lay hasty hands on the
old calico-covered rocker. “I want to, Polly; let me pull it up.”
“I want to,” begged David, just as nimble on the other side.
“So you shall; you can both help,” cried Polly merrily, deep in
thought over the intricacies of ‘Mirandy’s weddin’-cake receet.’
“Well,” said Grandma, seeing Phronsie on such a high road to recovery,
“I’m dretful glad I found that receet. I put it in my Bible so’s to
have it handy to give John’s folks when they come; they set great store
by it to the weddin’: and I must go home now, ’cause I left some meat
a-boilin’.” So off she waddled, Joel going to the door and gallantly
assisting her down the steps and to the gate, glad to make amends. Then
he rushed back.
“Now for the white chicken!” he cried, drawing a long breath, and
perching on the end of the baking-table.
“Yes,” said Polly; “but you’ve got to have on one of Mamsie’s old
slippers first, Phronsie.”
“Oh, ho,” Phronsie laughed gleefully, “how funny!”
So one of Mamsie’s old cloth slippers was tied on to Phronsie’s little
foot with a bit of string through the middle, the children one and all
protesting that it looked like an old black pudding-bag; and Polly
began again, “Now,” she said absently, “I’ll tell you about the little
white chicken--just as soon as I have--oh, dear me! let me see if I
have all my things ready.” She wrinkled her brows and thought a minute.
Joel kicked his heels impatiently against the table-side, while Davie
clasped his hands tight so as not to say anything to worry Polly.
“Yes, I believe they’re all here,” said Polly, after what seemed an
age to the children. “Well, there now, children, I’m ready to begin on
the story. Oh, let me see, all but the big bowl;” and she ran into the
buttery and brought it out, and began to mix the cake with quite an
important air. Phronsie drew a long breath of delight that ended in a
happy little crow. “You must know that the white chicken made up her
mind that she _would_ go into Susan’s playhouse, although”--
“You told that,” interrupted Joel, filliping at the dish where the
raisins, with a plentiful sprinkling of flour, lay ready to lend their
magnificence to Mamsie’s birthday cake; “go on where you left off,
Polly.”
“You said she saw a black object over in the corner,” said Davie, with
big eyes; “tell about that.”
“Oh, yes, so I did!” said Polly; “now, Joe, you mustn’t touch the
raisins. Every single one must go into Mamsie’s cake.”
Joel drew away his hand; but it was impossible not to regard the plate,
on which he kept his gaze fastened.
“Well, in crept the little white chicken,” said Polly tragically, and
stirring briskly the cake-mixture with the long wooden spoon, “hoping
the black object wouldn’t see her. She had to go in you see, because
just outside the door, coming under the apple-trees, was a noise, and
it sounded very much like a boy; and the little white chicken had
rather be scared by a black object in the corner inside, than to let
that boy spy her. So she crept in _very softly_, and was just beginning
to tuck up her feet and sit down behind the door, when the black object
stirred, and over went the little white chicken all in a heap.”
Joel gave a grunt of great satisfaction, and tore his eyes from the
raisin-plate.
“What was it?” gasped Davie fearfully, and getting nearer to Polly’s
side. Phronsie kept her wide eyes on Polly’s face, and sat quite still,
her little hands folded in her lap.
“You wait and see,” said Polly gayly, and stirring away for dear life.
“Well, over went the little white chicken, and”--
“You said that,” interrupted Joel; “do hurry and tell the rest.”
“Then she shut her eyes just like this,” Polly stopped stirring, and
turned to Phronsie, wrinkling up her face as much like a chicken in
despair as was possible. “Oh, you can’t think how she felt; she was
_so_ frightened! She tried to call her mother, but the ‘peep--peep’
that always used to be so loud and clear, stuck way down in her throat;
and then she knew she never in all this world could make her mother
hear because she hadn’t minded her. And outside she could hear old Mrs.
Hen calling her brothers and sisters to come and get the worms she had
just scratched up.”
“And wouldn’t the little white chicken ever get a worm?” broke out
Phronsie in dreadful excitement; “wouldn’t she, Polly, ever?”
“No--oh, yes; she could when she was good,” said Polly at sight of
Phronsie’s face.
“Make her good,” begged Phronsie, unclasping her hands to pull Polly’s
gown; “oh do, Polly!”
“No, make her bad,” cried Joel insistently; “as bad as can be, do,
Polly!”
“O Joel!” reproved Polly, stirring away; “whoever would want that
little white chicken bad--any more than for a boy to be naughty.”
“Well, make her bad enough to be scared; and have the awful black thing
be a bear, and most bite her to death, and chew her head off,” cried
Joel, feeling delicious thrills at the dreadful possibilities that
might happen to the chicken.
“Oh, dear me!” cried Polly in horror, “the poor little white chicken!”
“Don’t let it bite her _much_,” said Davie. “But do make it a bear,
Polly!”
“Well, I will,” said Polly obligingly, “make it a bear, boys.”
“And don’t let it bite her any,” begged Phronsie; and she put up her
lip, while the brown eyes were imploringly fixed on Polly’s face.
Joel squirmed all over the table-end. “Just such a little bear,” he
remonstrated. “Hoh! he couldn’t bite much; I’d just as lieves he’d bite
me,” baring his brown arm.
“No--no--no!” protested Phronsie, shaking her yellow head decidedly;
“I don’t want him to bite her any, poor little white chicken;” and she
looked so very near to crying, and Mamsie’s old black slipper on the
pounded toes began to flap so dismally, that Polly hastened to say,
“Oh! I’ll tell you, children, what I’ll do; I’ll have Tommy come out
and shoot the bear right away.”
“Oh, whickety!” whooped Joel. David clasped his hands ecstatically.
This was much better,--to have Tommy and the bear, than the bear and
the little white chicken. Phronsie laughed delightedly, “Make him come
quick, do, Polly!” she screamed.
“Hurry up!” called Joel; “O Phron! don’t talk. Do hurry, Polly!”
“Well, you see,” went on Polly, stirring away for dear life, “that when
Susan went into the house to sit on the stool and do patchwork, her
brother Tommy thought he would take his gun and see if he could find
anything to shoot, like rabbits, and”--
“No--no,” cried Joel in alarm, twitching her sleeve, “bears, bears!”
“He didn’t expect to see a bear,” said Polly; “he went out to shoot
rabbits. But he found the bear instead, you know,” catching sight
of Joel’s face, which immediately cleared up, and he settled back
contentedly. “Well, Tommy went along by old Mother Hen clucking and
scratching, and all the rest of the chickens, except the little white
one; and just as he was going by Susan’s playhouse he thought he would
look in and scare the dolls with his big gun.”
“Don’t let him, Polly!” begged Phronsie in a worse fright than before.
“Oh, don’t let him; don’t let him!”
“Ow! there ain’t any fun. Phron keeps stopping us all the time,”
howled Joel. “Let him, Polly. Gee--whiz--bang! that’s the way I’d do,”
bringing an imaginary gun to his shoulder and blazing away.
“Well, then he’d have scared the bear so he couldn’t have shot him,”
said little Davie quietly.
“So he would, Davie,” said Polly approvingly, and dropping the spoon to
pet Phronsie; “if Joel had been there, the bear would have got away.”
Joel, much discomfited at this, ducked suddenly and looked sheepish.
“Well, go on,” he said.
“And Tommy didn’t scare the dolls, because you see he was scared
himself. The first thing he saw was the little white chicken crouched
down like this.” Down went Polly on the old kitchen floor, and made
herself so much like a little white chicken very much frightened, that
the children held their breath to see her.
“And then Tommy looked at what scared the little white chicken,” went
on Polly, hopping up and beginning to stir the cake-mixture again.
“And--he--_saw--the--bear_!”
[Illustration: “And--he--saw--the--bear.”]
It is impossible to describe the effect this statement had on the old
kitchen and its occupants; and Polly, well pleased, rushed on, dilating
on how the bear looked, and how Tommy looked, and how the little white
chicken looked; till, in a pause, the crackling in the old stove
proclaimed all things ready for the baking of Mamsie’s birthday cake,
and she exclaimed, “Deary me, I must hurry. Oh well! Tommy saw the bear
getting ready to spring, just like this; and he put up his gun, like
this, and it went bang--bang! and over went Mr. Bear quite, quite dead.”
“Like this?” cried Joel, tumbling off from the table-end to a heap in
the middle of the old floor; “just like this, Polly?” sticking up his
stubby black head to look at her.
“No--no!” cried Davie, hurrying to make another heap of himself by
Joel’s side; “he stuck up his legs, didn’t he, Polly?” and out went
David’s arms and legs as stiff as sticks, as he lay on his back staring
at the ceiling.
“Hoh--hoh!” laughed Joel in derision; “bears don’t tumble down that
way, Dave, when they’re killed; do they, Polly?”
“Yes, they do too,” contradicted little David, not moving a muscle;
“don’t they, Polly?” while Phronsie tried to get out of her big chair
to show, too, how she thought the bear would tumble over.
“Oh, no, Phronsie pet, you mustn’t!” cried Polly in alarm; “you’ll hurt
your poor toes. Well, I think the bear looked something like both of
you boys. He didn’t stick his legs up stiff, but he was on his back
like Davie.”
“Well, I’m on my back,” cried Joel, whirling over; while David’s stiff
little wooden legs and arms fell down in a twinkling. “Well, now you
boys must get me the cinnamon,” said Polly, with a brisk eye on the old
clock. “Deary me, I ought to have this cake in the oven--it’s in the
Provision Room, you know.”
“And then we’ll get something to eat,” cried the two bears, hopping up
to race off.
II.
THE PRINCESS ESMERALDA’S BALL.
“It was a most beautiful place,” cried Polly. “Oh! you can’t think,
children, how perfectly beautiful it all was;” and she clasped her
hands and sighed.
“Tell us,” they all begged in one breath, crowding around her chair.
“Well, I can’t till Ben gets back, because you know he wanted to hear
this story;” and Polly flew out of her rapture, and picked up her
needle again. “Dear me!” she exclaimed, and a wave of remorse sent the
color flying over her cheek, “I didn’t mean to stop even for a minute;”
and she glanced up at the old clock.
“Ben never’ll come,” grumbled Joel, racing to the window with Davie at
his heels; “he’s so awful slow.”
“Well, it’s slow work,” said Polly, stitching away briskly, “to carry a
great heavy molasses jug and a bag of Indian meal way up here from the
store. Now, if you two boys wanted to go and meet him, you could help
ever so much.”
“I went last time down to that old store,” said Joel, kicking his toes
against the wall as he stared out of the window; “it’s Dave’s turn now,
Polly.”
“Oh, oh!” cried little Davie, “I’ve been ever and ever so many more
times, Polly; truly I have.”
“And we’ve just got through doing all our work,” went on Joel, ignoring
David’s remarks; “and we had such a lot to do to-day Polly,” he added
in an injured tone.
“You needn’t go if you don’t want to,” said Polly, with a fine scorn;
“I said if you _wanted_ to go.”
“Well, we don’t want to,” declared Joel loudly, and he kicked his toes
triumphantly. Phronsie, curled up in a ball on the floor at Polly’s
feet, while she nursed Seraphina, stared at them gravely.
“I’ll go, Polly,” she said at last, laying Seraphina, with a sigh, on
the floor, and getting up to her feet.
“Oh, no, Pet! you can’t go,” said Polly quickly; “you’re too little.
Why, you aren’t bigger’n a mouse, Phronsie;” and she began to laugh,
but she turned a cold shoulder to the boys.
“I’m very big, Polly,” said Phronsie gravely, and standing up on her
tiptoes. “See--oh, so big! and I must go down and help poor Bensie. Let
me, Polly, do!” and she put up her lips, and the tears began to come
into the brown eyes.
“Now you see, boys,” began Polly, casting aside her work to take
Phronsie on her lap.
“Oh, I’ll go, Polly!” cried little Davie, springing forward, his face
all in a flame. “I want to go; truly I do.”--
“No, I will,” howled Joel, dashing away from his window. “You’ve been
ever so many times, Dave; I’m going.”
“Joel,” cried Polly, as he was rushing off, “come here a minute.”
He came back slowly, with one eye on Davie. “What do you want, Polly?”
he cried impatiently.
“David _wants_ to go,” said Polly slowly, and looking steadily into his
flushed face. “Now, unless you really want to go to help Bensie, why
you must stay at home.”
“I--want--to go--to help Bensie,” declared Joel insistently, with a
very red face. “O Polly! I do. Let me go.” He was so near to crying
that Polly said hastily, “I know, Joey, you do want to help Bensie;
there, there,” and she gave him an approving little pat.
“I want to help Bensie,” cried Joel; his smiles all come again to the
chubby face, and off he dashed.
“Now, Davie,” said Polly in her briskest fashion, and setting to on the
long seam, “I think if I were you, I’d play with Phronsie a bit,” with
a glance at the disappointed little face.
“Come on, Phronsie,” said little David, gulping down his disappointment;
for now that Joel was fairly on the way to meet Ben, nothing seemed
better than to be of the party. But he sat down on the floor, where
Phronsie immediately crouched beside him; and in a minute the only sound
in the old kitchen was the soft hum of their voices, and Phronsie’s
delighted little gurgle as the play went on.
“I better be going over that story again in my mind,” said Polly to
herself. “I’ve a good chance now, it’s so quiet and lovely;” and she
beamed at Davie when he looked up, in a way to make his little heart
glad. And then Polly was lost in the depths of her story till the old
kitchen and the little brown house and the children faded away; and she
was revelling in the glories of the palace, with retinues of courtiers
and servants at her beck and call, and all the paraphernalia of royalty
around her. For was she not the Princess Esmeralda herself? And a smile
played around Polly’s lips as she stitched on, all unconscious of the
task her fingers were performing.
“Hi-hi!” It was Joel shouting close to her chair, and there was Ben
coming in the door with a pleased look on his face. “Now for the
story,” screamed Joey, setting down the bag of meal with a bang on the
table; and down tumbled Polly’s castle all around her ears. “Well, I’m
glad I’ve got it fast in my mind so I can tell it good,” she said with
a sigh of relief. “Yes, I’m ready;” and she smiled at Ben.
“That’s good,” said Ben heartily, “that you didn’t tell that story
until I got home, Polly.”
“Did you suppose I would, Ben?” said Polly with an air of reproach.
“No, I didn’t really,” said Ben, wiping his hot face. “But it was good
of you, Polly, to wait for me. And it was good of you Joe, too, to come
to meet me, for I had to go around to Parson Henderson’s with a letter.”
“O Ben!” exclaimed Polly, “did you have to go all around there with
those heavy things?”
“Yes,” said Ben, “I did. But you wouldn’t have had me not go, Polly;
for Mr. Atkins said Parson Henderson had been for his letters very
early, and this came afterwards, and he wouldn’t be there again to-day.”
“Oh no, no, of course not,” said Polly hastily. “I mean I wouldn’t
have had you not go for anything in this world, Ben Pepper. You know I
wouldn’t;” and she looked so distressed that Ben hastened to say most
assuringly,--
“I know you wouldn’t, Polly; and don’t you think, Mrs. Henderson said
it was a most important letter indeed; and if Mr. Henderson hadn’t had
it to-day it would have been very bad.”
“Oh, I am so glad he got it to-day, Ben Pepper!” Polly flew out of her
chair to run and throw her arms around him. “And you were the one to
carry it to him.”
[Illustration: Polly threw her arms around Ben.]
“And then when I got to the Four Corners,” went on Ben, “there was
Joel running to meet me. You can’t think how good it seemed to see him!”
“O Joey! did you get clear down to the Four Corners?” cried Polly,
turning to him in a transport.
“Yes, I did,” bobbed Joel, glad to think he had run every step of
the way without stopping to think, and forgetting how his arms ached
carrying the meal-bag. “Now, Polly, tell us the story quick, do.”
“So I will,” cried Polly merrily, rushing back to her chair and the
sewing. “Oh, it’s so splendid that Ben’s back! We’ve got a whole hour
now before Mamsie’s to be home. Now, then,” as the group huddled up
around her. “Once upon a time, long years ago, there was one of the
richest kings and queens that the world has ever seen. Why, they had
so much money that nobody had ever counted it; they hadn’t time, you
know. And it kept coming in until the bags of gold pieces filled up all
one side of the courtyard, and they had to build great sheds to put the
rest in.”
“Where’d it come from?” broke in Joel abruptly, unable to keep still at
thought of such a state of affairs.
“Oh! the things they sold in the whole kingdom were so many,” said
Polly; “there were millions--no, billions of bushels of corn, and wheat
and rye and silks and ribbons and butter and cheese, and laces and
artificial flowers and candy, and”--
“Oh, my!” cried Joel, smacking his lips.
“Like the pink sticks old Mrs. Beebe gave Phronsie the day she hurt her
toe?” queried David, his mouth watering at the remembrance.
“Yes, the very same,” said Polly.
“Now, you children mustn’t interrupt every single minute,” commanded
Ben; “if you do, Polly and I will go off into a corner, and she will
tell me the story. And Phronsie--we’ll take her, because she hasn’t
said a word.”
“Oh, we won’t--we won’t again, will we, Dave?” cried Joel, with a punch
on that individual’s back.
“No,” said little David promptly; “please go on, Polly.”
“You see, everything that anybody wanted to buy--I mean the people in
other countries--was all for sale in this kingdom; and big ships went
sailing off ever so many times a day with the things piled in them;
and when they came back the captain brought all the money he got for
the things, tied up in big bags; and the ships kept coming back, ever
so many a day, so that there was no hope that the gold pieces would
ever be any less. And one day the king walked up and down his palace
hall, wringing his hands. ‘Oh! I wish there wasn’t so much money in the
world,’ he cried; ‘for pretty soon I shall be turned out-of-doors, with
all the gold pieces crowding me out.’ And he looked so very sad as his
wife, the queen, put her head in the doorway, that she said, ‘My dear,
we will have the golden coach brought around to take us out to drive.’
“‘Don’t say golden anything to me,’ cried the king in a passion, for
he was almost beside himself. ‘I’m sick of the sound of the word, my
dear;’ and he beckoned her to him, and they went and sat together on
the great throne at one end of the hall. It shone with diamonds and
rubies and emeralds, and all manner of precious stones; and it had
great curtains of twisted ropes of jewels looped up over their heads;
and there they sat, and he held her hand. ‘I’m really afraid,’ and
he looked in her face, ‘that something must be done, for this is a
dreadful state of things.’
“‘Now, if you are going to talk business,’ said the queen tartly,
‘I think it is time to call Esmeralda.’ You see, whenever there was
anything to decide in the kingdom, the king and queen never did the
leastest little bit of a thing about it, without at first calling
Esmeralda, and laying the case before her. So now they rang five or
six golden bells in turn; and the king blew a blast on a glass horn,
oh, ever so many feet long! that hung by his side of the throne; and
the queen whistled on a tremendous silver whistle that hung by her
side of the throne; and pretty soon Esmeralda came running in all out
of breath. She was dressed in sea-green satin, over a white lace
petticoat pinned up with diamonds, and she had a bunch of flowers in
her hand that were sweet with the morning dew. She had long floating
yellow hair, just like Phronsie’s;” and Polly paused long enough to
glance lovingly at the small head snuggled up against her knee.
[Illustration: “In came the Princess Esmeralda.”]
“‘Good-morning, father,’ and ‘Good-morning, mother,’ said the Princess
Esmeralda, kneeling before her parents sitting on the throne; and she
laid the flowers, with the morning dew on them, in their hands.
“‘We have summoned you, Esmeralda,’ said the king in a troubled way,
‘because we are in dire extremity, and must have your advice.’
“Esmeralda wrinkled her pretty brow, and looked very wise; but her
heart beat dreadfully against her bodice and”--
“What’s a bod”--began Joel.
“Ugh!” cried Ben with a warning finger held up, as Joel ducked
instantly.
“It’s a waist that princesses always wear,” said Polly; “and
Esmeralda’s was all spangled with gold and silver. It shone so that no
one could look at it more than a minute at a time. Well, so she said,
‘Yes, father,’ and ‘Yes, mother.’
“‘We have too much gold,’ said the king, smiting his hands together.
‘Esmeralda, I tell you truly, if it keeps coming in we shall all have
to move out from this palace, and find another home. What shall we do,
my child?’
“Esmeralda jumped up from her knees, and ran to the casement, and
climbed up the golden seat beneath it, and peered out. There were the
ships below her in the harbor, with the men taking out the bags and
bags and bags of gold; and as far as her eye could reach, there were
more ships and more ships and more ships all coming in, filled with
bags to the very brim. She got down, and ran back. ‘It is certainly
very dreadful, father and mother,’ she said, clasping her hands.
“‘Indeed it is,’ declared the king; and he began to tear his hair.
“‘Husband, don’t feel so badly,’ implored the poor queen at that sight,
throwing her arms around him. ‘Esmeralda, you must think quickly,
because you see we are both going quite distracted.’
“So Esmeralda said the first thing that came into her head. ‘You might
tell the men to untie the bags, and pour the gold pieces into the sea
at the mouth of the harbor.’
“‘The very thing!’ exclaimed the king in delight; and his face was
covered with smiles. ‘Oh, what it is to have a clever child!’ and the
queen fell upon Esmeralda’s neck, and kissed and kissed her.
“So then the king rang all his bells, and blew his long glass horn,
and then he struck a big silver gong that was always the signal for
the Lord High Chamberlain to appear. And when he popped in with his
robes of office all caught up in his hands, to let him run to obey the
king’s call, and his high peaked hat awry for the same reason, the
king gave him the order just as Esmeralda said; and then the Lord High
Chamberlain plunged out, after bowing himself before the throne five
and twenty times to the marble floor; and the king said to the queen,
in the greatest satisfaction, ‘My dear, we must give Esmeralda a Ball
for being so clever.’
“And the queen said, ‘Yes, a Ball,’ with the greatest alacrity. And
Esmeralda hopped up and down in glee, she was so happy; and she danced
and danced until off flew seventy-nine of the diamonds from her lace
petticoat, and rolled away into as many cracks and crevices in the
corners of the marble hall. But she didn’t care; for there were bushels
in her room, and a dozen or two women always sitting on their crickets,
with their needles threaded with silver thread, ready to sew on more.
“So then the word went out from the palace all over the kingdom, that
there was to be a Ball for the Princess Esmeralda; and all the while
the golden stream was pouring out every minute from the big bags
into the mouth of the harbor. And Esmeralda fell asleep every night
to dream of the beautiful music, and flowers, and lights, and the gay
young princes to be sent for as company from every other kingdom; for
you must know that never had there been such a ball in all this world
before as this one was to be. And every morning Esmeralda waked up
quite, quite happy, because the Ball night was just so much nearer. And
at last her dress was all ready, and laid out upon her little white
bed. It was”--Polly paused most impressively to allow her hearers to
take it all in properly, “it was made out of the very finest cobwebs
that had all been spun in the sunshine of the palace court-yards. For
this, millions of spiders had been caught by the command of the king,
who had sent out an edict for that purpose; and they had been set
spinning until they had made this beautiful dress of the princess. And
it was trimmed around the bottom and the neck by a rainbow, and”--
“O Polly!” exclaimed Ben.
“There, Ben’s talking!” broke in Joel in huge delight. “Hoh! hoh!”
“Yes, a rainbow,” repeated Polly stoutly; “a beautiful red and green
and blue and yellow rainbow. Oh! you can’t begin to think, children,
how perfectly lovely Esmeralda did look when she was all dressed ready
for the Ball. Well, and then the princes began to arrive. There were
two hundred of them, and each one brought the princess a present. But
the king had said that she should not accept anything of gold, so it
had been some little trouble for them to get anything that was nice
enough without having it golden. But they did, and there were two
hundred presents set out in the palace hall. And Esmeralda was to walk
up and down the whole length, and choose the present she liked the best
out of the whole collection; and then she was to dance with the prince
who had given her this present. Oh, dear me! she thought she would cry
her eyes out when the king decided this must be done; for how was she
to choose between so many perfectly beautiful things, and there would
be one hundred and ninety-nine princes feeling very unhappy indeed. She
was just going to say, ‘Oh, my father! I cannot do it;’ and then she
knew the king would ring, and strike his big silver gong, and blow for
the Lord High Chamberlain to take him off from the throne and put him
to bed, and then the lights would be turned out, and everybody would
go home, and there would be no Ball at all. She couldn’t do that, of
course, as you see. So she stopped a minute to think, as she always did
when she had hard questions to decide, until the king roared at her,
‘Do as I say, daughter, or out go the lights;’ and then she said the
first thing that came in her head. ‘I like all the presents best, and
we’ll all dance together at once.’
“‘Dear me!’ exclaimed the king, ‘how clever!’ and he screamed joyfully
to the musicians to begin; and the princess and the two hundred princes
all began hopping and jumping about the hall, and presently it looked
so nice, the king gave his hand to the queen, and she slid down from
the throne, and began to hop about too; and the Lord High Chancellor
picked up his flowing robes, and danced on the tips of his toes; and
the court ladies skipped back and forth; and the servants came to look
in the doorways, and so did the retinues of soldiers. And they couldn’t
help it, the music was so fine; and oh, dear me! it went just like
this,”--and Polly broke off into a merry little tune as she sprang to
her feet and held out her hands, “Come on, let us all dance!” and she
seized Ben’s arms, and danced him half across the old kitchen floor.
“Take me, Polly!” begged Joel, who had tumbled over himself in
surprise, and now got to his feet to run after the two spinning off so
finely.
“Can’t,” said Polly over her shoulder; “you take Phronsie;” and then
she began again on the gay tune--Ben whistling away for dear life as an
accompaniment.
“Dave’s got her,” said Joel in great discomfiture, turning around to
see little Davie and Phronsie’s pink calico gown flying along at a
merry rate. “I haven’t got anybody,” seeing which Polly stopped short.
“Come with us;” and she held out her hand, and Ben grasped Joel’s arm,
and away they went till the old kitchen rang with the fun.
III.
THE STORY OF THE CIRCUS.
“You see,” said Polly, “as it rains to-day, I think we ought to have
the Circus story.”
“Oh! oh! oh!” cried all the Five Little Peppers together, Ben not being
ashamed to add his shout of approval too.
“Do you think you really ought to, Polly?” he asked, coming out of it,
and leaving the others in the babel of rejoicing. “Won’t you want it
more for some other time?”
Polly ran over and caught him by the jacket sleeve.
“I really think we ought to have it to-day, Bensie,” she whispered.
“You see, they’ve been awfully good, and it’s rained for three days
now, and you know there wasn’t enough mush for breakfast, and Mamsie
couldn’t get any coats to do this week, ’cause Mr. Atkins didn’t dare
let her have any more to sew until he’d sold what he had, and trade’s
so poor.” And Polly sighed, and wiped away two tears. Ben turned away a
moment, and swallowed something hard that was in his throat. Polly, at
sight of this, began to laugh; and she said gayly, “Yes, indeed, we’ll
have the Circus story now. Get your chairs, and let’s sit round in a
ring, children.”
With that the babel of rejoicing changed into a scuffle for chairs
and crickets, Joel protesting that he should sit next to Polly, and
Phronsie scuttling along to crowd into Polly’s lap, till the little old
kitchen fairly rang with the noise.
“Let’s sit in a ring on the floor, Polly, that’s best,” begged
little David. So they all got down, and Polly had Joel on one side
and Phronsie on the other; though to be sure everybody was next to
everybody else, as the ring was constantly moving up closer till it was
a bunch of Five Little Peppers; and everybody looked as if there had
been plenty of breakfast, and all sorts of good things in the Little
Brown House enough for all time to come.
“Now, you know, children,” said Polly, folding her hands in her lap,
and feeling quite elegant to be sitting down in the morning telling
stories; and she looked at them impressively, “I’ve promised you the
Circus story for a lo-ong time.”
“Yes, we know,” said Joel, hitching impatiently. “Don’t talk, but
begin.”
Polly shot him a reproving glance that made him duck behind Davie, who
sat next, as she went on, “And now to-day I’m going to give it to you.
I know Mamsie’d say ’twas best, everything’s all clean spick span;” and
she glanced with pride around the little old kitchen that shone from
top to toe.
“Mamsie’d like it,” cooed Phronsie; and she patted her pink apron down
and looked at Polly to begin.
“The Circus story,” said Polly, beginning with a great flourish, “is
about so many best and splendid things that you must keep quite still
and not interrupt me a single teenty wee bit.”
[Illustration: “The circus story,” said Polly, “is about so many best
and splendid things that you must keep quite still.”]
They one and all protested that they wouldn’t say a word. So she began,
while each one sat as still as a mouse.
“Way far over the top of a high mountain,” said Polly, “so far that
no one had ever been entirely over it, at least to come back, lived
a big man. He was so large that he couldn’t have found any house in
all Badgertown big enough to get into if he had tried ever and ever so
much. He had arms and legs and eyes to match, you know, and feet and
ears, so he could take perfectly dreadfully large steps, and he could
lift as big rocks in his hands as the one hanging over Cherry Brook.
Oh, and he could see with his big eyes that stood right out of his face
just like cannon balls, so that nothing could hide from him, even if it
tried ever so much.”
Joel twisted uneasily and wriggled up nearer to Polly’s side. “And one
day the big man sat down on a spur of the mountain and dangled his feet
down the side. This was his swing, you know; and he always sat there
when he was thinking hard over anything, or making plans.
“Well, there he sat thinking--thinking away as hard as ever he could.
And pretty soon he got up and slapped his knee, just as Mr. Tisbett
does, you know; and he roared out, ‘The very thing--the _very_
thing!’ And folks down in the valley all ran to their windows and
said it thundered, and they drove into the barns and sheds and got
ready for the storm. Well, after the big man stopped roaring ‘the
very thing,’ and slapping his knee, he looked down the mountain,
the side he lived on, you know, and the first thing he saw was a
hippo--hippo--moppi--poppicus.” Here Polly paused to take breath. She
was very fond of long words, and it was her great delight to wrestle
with them; so now she thought she had done very well indeed, and
she ran on in the best of spirits--“Oh, he was so big--there isn’t
anything, children, that can tell you how big he was! Well, the big
man no sooner saw him than he ran like lightning on his perfectly
dreadfully large feet down his side of the mountain, and he said to the
hippo--pippo--poppi--moppicus--‘Here, you, sir, put your head in this;’
and he twitched out of one of his side pockets a string. It was made of
leather, and was just as strong--oh, you can’t think. Well the ‘hippo,’
I’m going to call him that for short,” said Polly suddenly, quite tired
out, “took a good look all around, but he saw no way of escape; and the
big man kept growing more dreadfully cross every minute he waited, so
the poor hippo at last said, ‘As you please, sir,’ and he put his head
into the string and was tied fast to a big tree that was one hundred
and sixty-seven feet round. Then the big man laughed a perfectly
dreadful laugh; and he said, when he had finished, ‘Now you are going
to the Circus, sir, and see the pennies taken in at the door.’ Then he
went off up to his mountain-spur again.
“And presently he looked down his side of the mountain again, and he
spied a gre-at big snake, oh, a beautiful one! all green and gold
stripes, and great flashing green eyes to match; for the big man
watched Mr. Snake raise his head as he wriggled along, and he ran down
his side of the mountain on his dreadfully large feet as quick as a
flash, and stood in front of Mr. Snake, who looked this way and that
for a chance to escape. But there was none, you see, for the dreadfully
large feet of the big man took up all the room; so at last Mr. Snake
said in a tired-out voice, just like this: ‘If you please, sir, would
you move just a _very_ little?’
“‘Put your head in here, sir,’ roared the big man at him, so that the
snake shook and shook just like a leaf on one of our maple-trees in a
storm. Well, and at last he had his head with the flashing green eyes,
fast in a big bag, which you must know in a twinkling the big man
had pulled out of his other side pocket, and then he was left to go
flopping and flopping around on the ground most dismally. And then the
big man scrambled up to his mountain-side again.
“Well,” said Polly with a long breath, “the next thing he saw was a
gi-raffe, as much bigger than the others as you can imagine. And he got
him fast, too, so he couldn’t get away; and then he went up to spy out
more animals. And by the time the sun went down behind the mountain,
and he couldn’t catch any more, he had two hundred creatures all tied
fast to trees, or with their heads in bags. And then he sat down on a
big stone to rest.”
“I should think he’d have to,” said Ben under his breath.
Polly shot him a reproving glance, and hurried on. “Well, after he was
all rested nicely again, he jumped up from his stone, and looked them
all in the face, that is, he looked those who were tied to trees in the
face, but those with their heads in bags, of course he couldn’t, and
he said, ‘My friends,’ for he thought he ought to treat them kindly,
they’d been so good to him, ‘I’m going to take you to see the world a
little.’ Then he untied those who were tied to the trees, and set them
in a line, the hippo in front, because he had him the longest, so it
was right to give him the first place, and the creatures with their
heads in the bags he set in the middle, because they didn’t need to
see, but could just follow the noise of the animals stepping in front
of them, and then a long line of more animals. Then the big man cut
down one of the large trees and switched it at the heels of the last
animal, which was a rhododendron.”
“O Polly!” gasped Ben.
“Yes ’twas,” she declared positively, with red cheeks, “I’m quite sure
of that word, for I saw it in the book Parson Higginson lent us; so
there! Ben Pepper.”
“Well, never mind,” said Ben faintly; “go on with the story, Polly.” So
Polly made her rhododendron move as swiftly as all the others in the
line; and presently the whole procession, with the big man at its rear
switching the heels of the last animal, was at the top of the mountain;
and then he called in a loud voice, “Come, Mr. Circus-man, and get
your menaj-menaj-arie.” Polly got over this very well, and hurried on
glibly. “And all the people who had opened their barn-doors and houses,
thinking there was to be no storm, clapped them to again in a fright.
All except one man, and they screamed to him that he was risking his
life; but he didn’t care, and he wouldn’t pay any attention to them.
So he poked his head out of his doorway, and he screamed, ‘I’m going
up the mountain to see for myself if there’s going to be a storm.’ And
they all bade him good-bye, and said they were sure they should never
see him again; and then they locked their doors, and padlocked them,
and away he ran up the mountain.
“The big man was waiting for him; and he said to his animals, ‘Now,
my friends, when that man’s head begins to show over that scrub-oak
there,’ pointing to the tree, ‘do you all say, “How do you do, and
_how_ do you do, and how do you do again.”’ So the animals said they
would; and as soon as the man’s head was to be seen peeping over the
tree-top, as he ran pretty fast, they all said it. The Hippo roared
it, and Mr. Snake grumbled it clear down half his length, and the
rhi-rhino-cerus squealed it, and the elephant howled it, and the”--
“What did the rhododendron do?” asked Ben.