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Updated: June 7, 2025
"But I must hurry," said Phronsie, with a very pink face, as the bevy rushed by, "for I'm going to work on my cushion-pin." "So you must. Well, then, here goes!" Mr. Dyce swung her up to his shoulder and went, two steps at a time, in through the crowd of girls, so that he arrived there first when the door was opened. There in the hall stood Miss Mary Taylor, as pretty as a pink.
"And I'm going to put my cushion-pin on the table," piped Phronsie suddenly, her checks all aglow with excitement, and dropping her needle again. "So you shall," cried Mr. Dyce, "only you must have a little card saying 'Sold' on it; for I am surely going to buy that pincushion, Phronsie." And then Polly flew back to her work again, and Mr.
Dyce turning to fix her with a stare, she subsided, ducking behind her neighbor's back. "Phronsie, I must buy that cushion-pin at the fair," he announced. "I want such an one very much indeed." Phronsie got off from the little cricket where he had placed her, and went straight over to him, to lay her hand with the "cushion-pin" in it on his knee.
"And I'll take my cushion-pin" Phronsie leaned over and put her face close to Polly's cheek "and I'll sew on it for the poor children, I will," and she began to hop up and down again. "Take care, and stop dancing," laughed Polly. "And it shall be a pink bag," said Phronsie, dreadfully excited; "make it a pink bag, do, Polly."
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