“That reminds me of a play we have sometimes, where one begins a story and one after another goes on with it till it is very funny by the time it is finished. Here goes: Next year at this time you will be living in a pretty little country town.”
“Where?” asked Cassy, fishing with a fork for the soap in her pan of hot water.
“Why, of course in the same town where Eleanor lives.”
“How lovely! Go on.”
“And you’ll live in a nice little white cottage——”
“With morning-glories over the porch.”
“Yes, and roses. I think I know just where it is.”
“Oh, I wish I did!” Cassy dropped her mop and clasped her soapy hands.
“And you’ll have a dog and a cat.”
“And chickens,” Jerry broke in.