"No, they never have. Now, I'll make one for Kit: 'There was a dear girlie named Kit, who was having a horrible fit.'"
"That isn't a bit valentiny."
"No, I know it. This is a funny one. We'll make her another pretty one. 'When they said, "Are you better?" she wrote them a letter in which she replied, "Not a bit!"'"
"I think that's sort of silly," said Delight, looking at the rhymes she had written at Midget's dictation.
"Yes, I know it is," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "It's nonsense, and that's 'most always silly. But Kit loves it, and so do I. We make up awful silly rhymes sometimes. You don't know Kitty very well yet, do you? She's only ten, but she plays pretend games lovely. Better'n I do. She has such gorgeous language. I don't know where she gets it."
"It comes," said Delight, with a far-away look in her eyes. "I have it too. You can't remember that you've ever heard it anywhere; the words just come of themselves."
"But you must have heard them, or read them," said practical Midget.
"Yes, I suppose so. But it doesn't seem like memory. It's just as if you had always known them. Sometimes I pretend all to myself. And I'm a princess."
"I knew you would be! Kit said so too. She likes to be a princess. But I like to be a queen. You might as well be, you know, when you're just pretending."
"Yes, you'd be a splendid queen. You're so big and strong. But I like to be a princess, and 'most always I'm captive, in a tower, waiting for somebody to rescue me."