"We couldn't if we kept a straight road. We might meet a princess in disguise, riding in her carriage and she might take us in with her. I should like to see a real princess."
"My father has seen one."
"I don't believe it."
"He has. Cross my heart. He wrote to grandma about her and said she looked like any one else."
"Then she couldn't have been a real princess," said Patty triumphantly.
"My father doesn't tell stories, I thank you," said Marian indignantly.
"You don't know whether he does or not; you don't know him," retorted Patty.
Marian gave her one look, arose from where she was sitting, and stalked into the house. Patty was at her heels in a moment. "Oh, please don't get mad," she begged.
Marian made no reply for a moment, then she said in a low voice, "I'm not exactly mad, but my feelings hurt me."
Patty was too warm-hearted to let this pass. She flung her arms around her friend's neck. "I was horrid to say that," she said, "when I have a father close by and you haven't any mother."