human
Chickadees never scratch, fired Betta as Alma stepped over protruding feet and reached the tent flap.
gpt
Now Chick-a-dee, Peep! Peep! Pretty for the ladies----
human
What do you make of it?
gpt
She saw something different, that's sure,
human
She told me all about it, put in Thistle proudly.
gpt
And it was really a wonderful child all done up in black velvets and ribbons,
human
I see nothing to do but ask Mrs. Manton about it, suggested Wyn.
gpt
It looks like a first class lot of fun.
human
Ask her if she is entertaining a boy in velvet pants?
gpt
When they're velvet they're never pants,
human
Trousers,
gpt
Nor those, objected Pell.
human
When they have cute little buckles and go with a jaunty cap----
gpt
They're knickers,
human
Not a--tall, shouted Treble.
gpt
I know better than that myself. You're thinking of golf. Didn't I see Lord Fauntleroy play his Dearest?
human
Did you really? Well, what did _he_ call call them?
gpt
I have it, sang out Laddie.
human
They're bloomers.
gpt
Oh no, rompers, insisted Thistle.
human
Rompers are much prettier.
gpt
What ever would you girls have done this evening if Alma's little story did not furnish you with debate material,
human
The story Alma never told,
gpt
All the same, declared Treble,
human
Let's take a vote on it, suggested Thistle, when quiet seemed possible.
gpt
Since every one wants to go and we haven't heard the Mantons were going to give a picnic or anything like that--why--the best thing to do is to draw lots.
human
How tragic! Draw lots! I say we make it numbers from Doro's cap. Here girls, get busy and numb.