Debbie. Now, what do you say girls for? Boys think as much of their new clothes as girls do.
Dora and Mary. Just as much!
Fred. I know who seems like a peacock,—Nannie Minns. I saw her stepping off the other day just as proud!—about seventeen flounces, and yellow kids, and yellow boots, and curls and streamers!—first looking at her dress, and then at her boots, and then at her gloves, and then at her curls,—this way. (Imitates Nannie Minns’s walking.)
Debbie. Well, if some girls are peacocks, so are some boys hawks. I saw that great Joshua Lowe come pouncing down among a flock of little boys yesterday, and do every thing he could think of to ’em, just to show he could master them.
Mary. And, if you want a crow-fighter, take Andy Barrows: he’s always picking a quarrel.
Dora. I know it. I’ve heard him. “Come on!” he says,—“come on: I’ll fight ye!”
Caroline. I think, as a general thing, girls behave better than boys. What do you think about it, little Minnie? You don’t say much.
Minnie (looking up from her flowers). I’d be a humming-bird.
Edith. She thinks you’re talking about birds.
Caroline. And what would you be a humming-bird for?