nt, returning
with a paper of pins. She squatted down on the floor by Polly's side.
Mary, meanwhile, had gone to the kitchen to superintend Luella's
cooking of the cranberries. Polly stuck a pin in one side of the
biggest, fattest roseberry, then another in the other side. "This is
Mr. Roseberry," she said, "and these are his two arms. Now his head
goes on, and then his legs. I use the pins, you see, because you can
bend them so as to make the people sit down." She held up the
completed mannikin. "Now I must pick out some berries for Mrs.
Roseberry, and then I'll make the children."

"Polly, you are so ridiculous," said Molly in a tone of admiration,
"but do you know, they are awfully funny with their little round heads
and bodies." Polly worked away industriously till she had completed
her entire family. "Now what?" said Molly. "What in the world is
that?"

"It is a lamp," returned Polly, deftly fitting a base to her red globe.
"Now, if I had some pasteboard I could make some furniture, and we'd
play with the Roseberry family this afternoon."

"Dinner is nearly ready now," said Molly, "but it will be fun to play
with them this afternoon. We could have two or three families. What
can I name mine?" She watched Polly interestedly as she put the last
touch to a vase in which she stuck a bit of green.

"You might call them Pod," said Polly. "These are really the seed pods
of the wild roses, you know. They are like little apples, aren't they?"

"Oh, I'll call them Appleby," said Molly.

"We know some people named that. Save that tiny one for the baby,
Polly."

"The cranberries are perfectly delicious," said Mary, coming in from
the kitchen, "but they have to cool before we can eat them. Luella
says they take so much sugar that they will keep perfectly for me to
take some home. Oh, what curious little figures."

"This is the Roseberry family," Polly told her, indicating the dolls on
the right, "and these," she pointed to those on her left, "these are
the Applebys."

"You must have some, too, Mary," said Molly. "What shall you call
yours?"

Mary had picked up one of the little figures. "Why, they are made of
hips, aren't they?"

"What are hips?" asked Molly.

"That is what we call the berries of the briar-rose, and in England the
hawthorn berries are haws."

"Hips and haws," sang Molly. "Don't they go nicely together? Shall
you call your people Mr. and Mrs. Hips?"

"Why, yes, I can. I