Its tender had been lined with fresh white paper, and was full of sweets.
"Oh, Peter!" cried Bobbie, quite overcome by this munificence, "not your own dear little engine that you're so fond of ?" "Oh, no," said Peter, very promptly, "not the engine.

Only the sweets." Bobbie couldn't help her face changing a little--not so much because she was disappointed at not getting the engine, as because she had thought it so very noble of Peter, and now she felt she had been silly to think it.

Also she felt she must have seemed greedy to expect the engine as well as the sweets.

So her face changed.

Peter saw it.