But thinking was of little use, as there was no way to get away but to run out at the door, and an attempt at that would be such certain failure that it was not worth trying.
So the children sat there in dumb misery, silently watching the gypsy women as they moved about preparing the mid-day meal.
Occasionally they spoke, and their manner and words were kindly, but King and Midget could not bring themselves to respond in the same way.
"King," whispered Marjorie, "how far do you suppose we are from the road?"
"Too far to run there, if that's what you mean. We'd be caught before we started," was the whispered reply.
"That isn't what I mean; but how far are we?"
"Not very far, Midget; after we crossed the little bridge, the path to this place was sort of parallel to the road."
"Well, King, I've got an idea. Don't say anything, and don't stop me."
With a stretch and a yawn as of great weariness, Marjorie slowly rose. Immediately the three women started toward her. "You sit still!" said one, sharply.
"Mayn't I walk about the room, if I promise not to go out the door?" said
Marjorie; "I'm so cramped sitting still."