make you a cake with orange icing and ammons and silver balls and you are not a crybaby
Tubby.
By the evening Tubby had written thirty-seven letters and had used up nearly all the paper out of the wastepaper basket. She folded the letters very small and sealed then s.w.a.k. Where to post them was the question, but after thinking a little while Tubby decided what to do. She gathered up all the letters in her pinafore, and creeping up very quietly, she posted them all inside the Money-Pig while he wasn’t looking.
Now she had no more paper, but the Easter Chicken settled that. He came running up, dragging a nearly clean paper bag which he had found by the pantry door.
“Here’s paper, Tubby!” he cried. “I’ll find you all the paper you want! I know where there’s a whole lot of it!”
So, greatly cheered, Tubby settled down once more to her letter-writing. So deep was she in her task, clutching the pencil tightly and with a tip of her tongue stuck out, that she never even heard the other toys calling her.
They were going on a picnic.
“Where’s Tubby?” asked Anna, when Tubby didn’t answer.
