Peter had a loose tooth. It was a lower front tooth. It was his first loose tooth. He had always wanted one.

When Polly's teeth became loose, he would feel of his.

He would say, "I wish I could wiggle mine, too. I wish I could pull mine out."

Mother said, "You are not yet old enough to lose your teeth. I am glad that you are not. Why do you wish to have a loose tooth?"

"Because they are nice to wiggle," said Peter. "Because Polly is faster than I am. She has had four. I like the holes in her face, too. She can make a funny noise through them. It is a whistle."

"Your turn will come by and by," said mother. "I suppose you will lose your upper front teeth first."

But it happened one day that Peter fell down. He bumped his nose. He also cut his lip on a tooth.

He must have bumped that tooth quite hard, for it became loose. Peter was much pleased.

"I should let it alone," said mother. "Perhaps it will grow tight again."

But Peter could not seem to let it alone. He wiggled it with his tongue. He wiggled it with his fingers. At last he made it very loose.

Then he said, "Polly, I must pull my tooth."

"Oh, let it come out," said Polly. "Two of mine did."

"No," said Peter. "I shall pull it. You pulled one of yours with your fingers. I shall do that."

But the loose tooth would not come out.

"It will not pull," said Peter. "I shall put a string on it. I shall tie the end of the string to the door. Then I shall shut the door hard. It will pull my tooth. You did that."

"Yes," said Polly. "That was fun. But I know a better way now. I will show it to you."

She took a flatiron. She tied a string to it. She set it on the kitchen table. Then she tied the other end of the string to Peter's loose tooth.

She said, "This string is too short to reach the floor. You push the flatiron off the table. It will fall down and jerk out your tooth."

"Shall I now?" asked Peter.

"Yes, now."

So Peter pushed the flatiron. But Polly had not been right. The string was too long. It reached to the floor.

Down went the flatiron, bang! It landed on the edge of Peter's boot. It landed on the edge of Peter's toe, too. It hurt him, but not much. And the tooth did not come out.

"Oh! Oh!" cried Peter. "It hurt my foot, it hurt my foot! It didn't pull out my tooth at all." And he started to jump up and down.

The very first jump surprised him. Something pulled at his mouth and then seemed to let go.

It was the string around his tooth. He had jumped up far enough to pull the tooth out himself.

How Polly did laugh when she saw this!

Peter cried, "It's out, it's out! We have found a new way! I found it!" And he got down on the floor to pick up his tooth.

"I am going to save it to plant in my garden," he said.

"To plant!" said Polly. "What for?"

"So I shall have more," said Peter.

Then Polly laughed again. She ran to tell mother about Peter's garden.