"
"What is it?" cried Polly, with sparkling eyes.
"Oh, that's telling," said Clem, in a tantalizing way. "You must guess."
"Polly," said Phronsie, with a gentle little twitch on her arm, "can you
find any pink ribbon?"
"Yes, yes; I mean no, not yet," said Polly, in a preoccupied way, her eyes
on Clem's face. "Oh, I can't guess; it might be anything, you know, Clem."
"But it isn't; I mean it's something," declared Clem, in great triumph.
"Oh, do hurry, you're so slow, Polly; it's too elegant for anything!"
Polly leaned her face in her hands, and her elbows on her knees. "Mm,
mm--oh, I know!" She brought up suddenly, nearly overthrowing Phronsie, who
had bent anxiously over her. "Take care, Pet, I came near bumping your
nose. It's a workbag."
"A workbag!" exclaimed Clem, in great scorn. "Well, I guess not, Polly
Pepper. What I'm going to make is ever so much better than an old workbag.
Guess again."
At the mention of the workbag, Phronsie had gently pulled Polly's arm. But
Polly was too deep in thought to notice, and she wrinkled her brows, and
bent her head again in her hands. What could it possibly be that Clem was
to make?
"Well, I think it is a sachet bag, then," she said at last.
"An old sachet bag, when all the girls are making oceans of 'em! I should
think you'd be perfectly ashamed, Polly Pepper, to sit there and guess such
things.
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