"Now, you HAVE done it!" said Marjorie. "How are we going to get down?"
"It seems to me," said Molly, grimly, "that we're always getting into places where we can't get down, or can't get up, or something."
"Never mind; Jane or somebody will come along soon and set the table up again for us."
It really was great fun to play they were on a high motor car seeing New York. But after a while the game palled, and their paper dresses became torn, and the girls wanted to get down and play something else.
But neither Jane nor any one else happened to come along, and though
Marjorie called a few times, nobody seemed to be within hearing.
"I should think we could find some way to get down," said Molly. "Can't you think of any way, Mops?"
Marjorie considered. To jump was out of the question, as it would probably mean a sprained ankle.
"I wish we had a rope ladder," she said, "and, Molly, I do believe we can make one. Not a ladder, exactly, but don't you know how people sometimes escape from prisons by tying sheets together and letting themselves down?"
"Yes, but we haven't any sheets."
"I know it, but we can take our dress skirts. Not the paper ones, but our own gingham ones. They're strong, thick stuff, and we can tie them together somehow and let ourselves down that way."