"I'm not when you laugh like that!" returned Delight, who was beginning to feel more at ease.
"Well, I was afraid of you, too, at first. You looked so—so, breakable, you know."
"Delicate?"
"Yes, fragile. Like those pretty spun sugar things."
"I am delicate. At least, mother says I am. I hate to romp or run, and
I'm afraid of people who do those things."
"Well, I'm not afraid of anybody who can play she's Cinderella over a telephone! I love to run and play out-of-doors, but I love to play 'pretend games' too."
"So do I. But I have to play them all by myself. Except sometimes mother plays with me."
"You can play with us. We all play pretend games. Kitty's best at it,—she's my sister. And King—Kingdon, my brother, is grand."
"Take off your things, won't you? I ought to have asked you before. I haven't any sense."
Marjorie jumped up and threw off her hat and coat, tossed them on the couch, and then plumped herself into another big chair near Delight's.