“‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair.’
“‘Then Rapunzel let down her tresses, and the witch mounted up.’”
“Oh, Randy!” cried Prue, excitedly, “why, didn’t it ’most pull her head off?”
Randy laughed. “O Prue, Prue!” she said, “I do believe you think of the funniest questions to ask.”
“But, Randy, do you b’lieve it didn’t pull like everything?” And Prue’s eyes were round with wonder.
“Oh!” said Randy, “don’t you know that father said we wouldn’t be expected to believe the stories, only just enjoy them?” But the little girl looked bewildered; so, closing the book, Randy sought other means to amuse her. “Let’s play this is a beautiful bridge, this plank we’re sitting on, and this brook, a great big river,” said Randy, “and we’re princesses waiting for a prince to come and save us—I mean rescue us,” she corrected.
Again little Prue showed her lack of imagination. “Save us from what?” said she.
“Oh, dragons that live in this big, roaring river.”
“It don’t roar much,” said Prue, doubtfully; “but,” she added, “we can play it does.”
Thus encouraged, Randy went on, giving her fancy full play. “And that pretty green branch overhead, with sun on the leaves, that’s an arch of flowers such as the princess rode under in another story.”