Eleanor H. Porter

“ Pollyanna's face fell.
"Oh, but Aunt Polly, hers will last. She can always be sick and have things, you know; but his is just a broken leg, and legs don't last—I mean, broken ones. He's had it a whole week now."
"Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton had met with an accident," said Miss Polly, a little stiffly; "but—I do not care to be sending jelly to John Pendleton, Pollyanna."
"I know, he is cross—outside," admitted Pollyanna, sadly, "so I suppose you don't like him. But I wouldn't say 'twas you sent it. I'd say 'twas me. I like him. I'd be glad to send him jelly." ”

“ Snow's calf's-foot jelly this week to some one else? I'm sure Mrs. Snow wouldn't—this once."
"Dear me, Pollyanna, what are you up to now?" sighed her aunt. "You are the most extraordinary child!"
Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously.
"Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If you're extraordinary you can't be ordinary, can you?"
"You certainly can not."
"Oh, that's all right, then. I'm glad I'm extraordinary," sighed Pollyanna, her face clearing.
"You see, Mrs. White used to say Mrs. Rawson was a very ordinary woman—and she disliked Mrs. Rawson something awful. ”

“ As was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed keen disappointment that the Ladies' Aid preferred a little India boy to himself.
"Well, maybe 'tis natural," he sighed. "Of course things you don't know about are always nicer'n things you do, same as the pertater on 'tother side of the plate is always the biggest. But I wish I looked that way ter somebody 'way off. Wouldn't it be jest great, now, if only somebody over in India wanted me?"
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
"Why, of course! That's the very thing, Jimmy! I'll write to my Ladies' Aiders about you. They aren't over in India ”