"So 'tis," said Mrs. Pepper; "they're all as light as a feather, Polly."

"But my 'gingerbread boy," cried Phronsie, running eagerly along
with a particularly ugly looking specimen of a cake figure in her
hand, "is the be-yew-tifullest, isn't it, Polly?"

"Oh, dear," groaned Polly, "it looks just awfully, don't it, Ben!"

"Hoh, hoh!" laughed Joel in derision; "his leg is crooked, see
Phronsie--you better let Davie an' me have it."

"No, no," screamed the child in terror; "that's my sick man's
'gingerbread boy,' it W"

"Joe, put it down," said Ben. "Yes, Phronsie, you shall have it;
there, it's all safe;" and he put it carefully into Phronsie's apron,
when she breathed easier.

"And he hasn't but one eye," still laughed Joel, while little Davie
giggled too.

"He did have two," said Polly, "but she punched the other in with
her thumb; don't, boys," she said, aside, "you'll make her feel bad;
do stop laughing. Now, how'll we send the things?"

"Put 'em in a basket," said Ben; "that's nicest."

"But we haven't got any basket," said Polly, "except the potato
basket, and they'd be lost in that."