"Dunno. What say? This?" She held up a mussy looking white muslin, trimmed with coarse embroidery and some imitation lace.
"That will do nicely," Patty said, relieved that it was at least white, and not some of the flamboyant effects she saw still in the trunk. "Janet will press it off for you,—it's rumpled from packing. And then you needn't unpack, dear, Janet will do that for you."
"Oh, I thought you told me not to call on the servant for anything!"
"No," Patty said, discouraged, "I didn't quite say that,—here's Janet now. Let her do your hair for you!"
"Do my hair! Mercy gracious! I should say not! I've never had that done for me."
"But I'm sure you'll be pleased with the way she'd do it. Janet is an artist at hair-dressing."
"Nopy! nix on the barber act for little Zaly! I'll comb my own wig, thank you!"
With a comb, she stood before the cheval glass, and twisted up the dark mop into a tidy but most unbecoming coil.
"Don't you care how it looks?" cried Patty, in dismay. "Really, don't you? And you've such pretty hair!"
"Then if it's pretty hair, it doesn't need any fancy doing," and Azalea gave a whimsical smile. "There, that's done. Now for my frock."