Fred. ’Twon’t do for little boys to hear every thing that goes on.
Guss. You little fellers are apt to make a noise, and disturb us.
Hittie. Mother says, if I weren’t a chatterbox, I could stay up later. I’ll choose to be a parrot; for parrots can talk just when they want to, and have blue wings, and green wings, and red and yellow, and all colors.
Edith. I should rather be a canary-bird, ’cause they have sponge-cake and sugar-lumps every day.
Hittie. Oh, I wouldn’t be a canary-bird, shut up in a cage!
Dora. I should rather live on dry sticks.
Minnie. My mamma’s got a canary-bird; and he sings, and he’s yellow.
Hittie. Parrots are the prettiest.
Mary. Why doesn’t somebody be a flamingo? He is flame-colored.
Arthur. I should think some of you girls would want to be a peacock.