“I’ll bet we had better luck than the girls,” boasted Palmer, as they started for their homes.  “And we have more places to go to next week.  What kind of play is it going to be, Bobby?  Can we all be in it?”

“Aunt Polly said as many as wanted to could,” replied Bobby.  “She calls it a stuffed animal play.  I don’t know what that is, but Aunt Polly is lots of fun.”

The boys promised to be over “right after supper,” and Bobby ran in to find his family and tell them his afternoon experiences.  He had to wait a few moments, because Meg and Dot were busy telling what had happened to them.

“We’ve got ever so many things,” bubbled Meg enthusiastically.  “The drygoods store gave us yards of ribbon; and Miss Stebbins said she had six pin-cushions she didn’t want.” (Miss Stebbins kept a small fancy-work store in the town.) “We saw Miss Florence, and she is going to dress two dolls for us.  And we’ve got belt buckles, and sachets, and bags, and aprons, and, oh, ever so many things.”

“Mr. Broadwell says to tell you he is saving some cologne for you,” reported Bobby.  “Say, isn’t getting ready for a fair fun?  And the boys are coming over to-night to see about the play, Aunt Polly.”

“I’m all ready for you,” said Aunt Polly capably.

CHAPTER XI

BOBBY’S MEANEST DAY

Four boys and four girls rang the Blossom door-bell that night after supper, eager to take part in the stuffed animal play.  With the four little Blossoms, that made twelve children, a most convenient number, Aunt Polly said.

“I’ll show you what we’re going to do,” she promised them, beckoning to Twaddles and Dot to follow her.  “Since the twins will have to go to bed in half an hour, we’ll let them be the first demonstrators.”

Aunt Polly and the twins went out of the room, and in three minutes there pranced back the cunningest little bear you ever saw.  He wobbled about on his four legs, opened a red flannel mouth and yawned, shook hands with the delighted boys and girls and behaved altogether as a well-brought-up bear should.

“Let me do it!” shouted the other boys and girls.  “Let me!  Let me!”

The bear was unbuttoned down his back by smiling Aunt Polly, and the flushed and triumphant twins stepped out.

“Didn’t we do it right?” they demanded happily.  “Isn’t it fun?  But you can’t be a bear—­Aunt Polly said so.  There’s only one of everything.”

Then Aunt Polly, who had cut out and stitched the white muslin case for the bear and painted his nose and lined his red flannel mouth, explained that for every two children there could be an animal.  The play would be an animal play.  They would act and talk as people would, only the actors would be lions and tigers and other animals.

“Choose what you would like to be to-night, and I will measure you and start work on the cases,” she said.  “And if you do not tell outsiders what kind of an animal you are going to be, that will double the fun.”