Other editions of book The Stories Polly Pepper Told to the Five Little Peppers in the Little Brown House

Fiction, Story, children, tales, family, The Little White Chicken, The Princess Esmeralda’s BallTHE 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.CONTENTSThe Little White ChickenThe Princess Esmeralda’s BallThe Story of the CircusThe Little Tin SoldiersChristmas at the Big HouseMr. Father Kangaroo and the Fat Little BirdThe Mince-pie Boy and the BeastsThe Cunning Little DuckThe Old Tea-kettleThe Pink and White SticksThe Old Stage-coachMr. Nutcracker; the Story that wasn’t a StoryMr. NutcrackerThe Runaway PumpkinThe Robbers and their BagsPolly Pepper’s Chicken-piePhronsie Pepper’s New ShoesThe Old Gray GooseThe Green UmbrellaThe Green Umbrella and the Queer Little ManThe Little Snow-houseLucy Ann’s GardenThe China MugBrown BettyThe Silly Little BrookDown in the Orchard

THEStories Polly Pepper ToldTO 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.[10]“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

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Excerpt from The Stories Polly Pepper Told: To the Five Little Peppers in the Little the HouseOU see, said Polly, the little white Chicken was determined she would go into Susan's playhouse.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.

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This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.

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This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface.We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.