"I see. I could put on my black dress, though. It's got some sticky stuff I spilt down the front."
"But I am afraid before this marriage takes place you will have to grow a little older."
"Of course!"
She essayed a laugh. The mother pricked up her ears: it was the first time the sound of laughter had come from those lips for many an hour; the child continued:
"You don't think I am so silly as to think I can be married in short frocks, do you? What an old goose you are! Of course, I mean when I am bigger and wear a train."
"I see. Do you think the black dress will grow too?"
"N—no. I forgot that—that's my fault. But you promised."
"Why certainly. I most cheerfully promise that I will marry you, if you ask me when you are a big girl."
"A real, real promise?"
"A most really, real, realiest of real promises. If you ask me when you are a big girl, to marry you, I promise you I will."