She dived into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out all the poor little dresses in both her arms.
"They aren't nice, at all," she choked, "and they'd been black if it hadn't been for the red carpet for the church; but they're all I've got." With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned over the conglomerate garments, so obviously made for anybody but Pollyanna.

Next she bestowed frowning attention on the patched undergarments in the bureau drawers.
"I've got the best ones on," confessed Pollyanna, anxiously.

"The Ladies' Aid bought me one set straight through all whole.

Mrs.
Jones--she's the president--told 'em I should have that if they had to clatter down bare aisles themselves the rest of their days.

But they won't.