the
pendants, one by one, until they lay, a round dozen of them, side by
side, on the bed.

"Now, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string
Nora fixed across the window. If you really WANT to live in a rainbow--I
don't see but we'll have to have a rainbow for you to live in!"

Pollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlit window
before she saw a little of what was going to happen. She was so excited
then she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up
the rest. But at last her task was finished, and she stepped back with a
low cry of delight.

It had become a fairyland--that sumptuous, but dreary bedroom.
Everywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange,
gold and blue. The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed
itself, were aflame with shimmering bits of color.

"Oh, oh, oh, how lovely!" breathed Pollyanna; then she laughed suddenly.
"I just reckon the sun himself is trying to play the game now, don't
you?" she cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not
know what she was talking about. "Oh, how I wish I had a lot of those
things! How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow
and--lots of folks. I reckon THEN they'd be glad all right! Why, I think
even Aunt Polly'd get so glad she couldn't help banging doors if she
lived in a rainbow like that. Don't you?"

Mr. Pendleton laughed.

"Well, from my remembrance of your aunt, Miss Pollyanna, I must say I
think it would take something more than a few prisms in the sunlight
to--to make her bang many doors--for gladness. But come, now, really,
what do you mean?"

Pollyanna stared slightly; then she drew a long breath.

"Oh, I forgot. You don't know about the game. I remember now."

"Suppose you tell me, then."

And this time Pollyanna told him. She told him the whole thing from
the very first--from the crutches that should have been a doll. As she
talked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes were still on the
dancing flecks of color from the prism pendants swaying in the sunlit
window.

"And that's all," she sighed, when she had finished. "And now you know
why I said the sun was trying to play it--that game."

For a moment there was silence. Then a low voice from the bed said
unsteadily:

"Perhaps; but I'm thinking that the very finest prism of them all is
yourself, Pollyanna."

"Oh, but I don't show beautiful red and green and purple wh