"Gay, gregarious, giggling Gladys was there."
Gladys was indeed giggling, but so were all the others. Still they were a determined lot, and each time round each one repeated all the sets of names, amid the laughing of the others.
"Kind-hearted, Kindergarten Kitty," was an easy one, but when the list wound up with "Rollicking Rufflecumtuffle Rosy Posy," the game ended in a gale of laughter.
But they remembered many of the funny phrases, and often called each other by them afterward.
"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll play something less wearing on the intellect. This is called the motor-car game, and you must all sit in a row. Kingdon, you're the chauffeur, and when chauffeur is mentioned, you must make a 'chuff-chuff' sound like starting the machine. Dick, you're the tire, and when tire is said, you must make a fearful report like an explosion of a bursting tire. Dorothy, you're the number, and when number is mentioned, you must say six-three-nine-nine-seven."
"What am I, Father?" said impatient Kitty.
"Oh, you're the man that they run over, and you must groan and scream. Marjorie, you're the speed limit, and you must cry, 'Whiz! Zip!! Whizz!!!' Gladys, you're the dust. All you have to do is to fly about and wave your arms and hands, and sneeze. Rosy Posy, baby, you're the horn. Whenever father says horn, you must say 'Toot, toot!' Will you?"
"Ess. Me play game booful, me an' Boffin; we say, 'Toot, toot!'"
"Now," went on Mr. Maynard, "I'll tell the story and when any of you are mentioned you must do your part. Then if I say automobile, you must all do your parts at once. Ready now: Well, this morning I started out for a ride and first thing I knew my tire burst."
A fearful "Plop!" from Dick startled them all, and then the game went on.