"I'd have that--that's cracked so pretty."

"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 is!"

"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."

"Can't we take your work-basket, mamsie?" asked Ben; "they'd look so
nice in that."

"Oh," said Mrs. Pepper, "that wouldn't do; I couldn't spare it, and
besides, it's all broken at the side, Ben; that don't look nice."

"Oh, dear," said Polly, sitting down on one of the hard wooden chairs
to think, "I do wish we had things nice to send to sick people." And her
forehead puckered up in a little hard knot.

"We'll have to do 'em up in a paper, Polly," said Ben; "there isn't
any other way; they'll look nice in anything, 'cause they are nice," he
added, comfortingly.

"If we only had some flowers," said Polly, "that would set 'em off."

"You're always a-thinkin' of flowers, Polly," said Ben. "I guess the
cakes'll have to go without 'em."

"I suppose they will," said Polly, stifling a little sigh. "Where's the
paper?"

"I've got a nice piece up-stairs," said Ben, "just right; I'll get it."

"Put my 'gingerbread boy' on top," cried Phronsie, handing him up.

So Polly packed the little cakes neatly in two rows, and laid the
'gingerbread boy' in a fascinating attitude across the top.

"He looks as if he'd been struck by lightning!" said Ben, viewing him
critically as he came in the door with the paper.

"Be still," said Polly, trying not to laugh; "that's because he bak