these reins for Phil." She took them from under her pillow as she spoke—gay worsted affairs, with bells sewed on here and there. She had knit them herself, a very little bit at a time.
"There's my pink sash," she said suddenly, "I might give that to Clover. I only wore it once, you know, and I don't think I got any spots on it. Would you please fetch it and let me see, Aunt Izzie? It's in the top drawer."
Aunt Izzie brought the sash. It proved to be quite fresh, and they both decided that it would do nicely for Clover.
"You know I sha'n't want sashes for ever so long," said Katy, in rather a sad tone. "And this is a beauty."
When she spoke next, her voice was bright again.
"I wish I had something real nice for Elsie. Do you know, Aunt Izzie—I think Elsie is the dearest little girl that ever was."
"I'm glad you've found it out," said Aunt Izzie, who had always been specially fond of Elsie.
"What she wants most of all is a writing-desk," continued Katy. "And Johnny wants a sled.
