“We got to get to the celebration tent.”
“You sneak home and git us some clothes.”
“You do it.”
But neither of them would and time was passing, and then they sat down and didn’t say anything for a spell, until Banty says there wasn’t anything to do but put on the rags, because they’d get arrested for going through town if they didn’t. So they picked up the clothes we’d fixed for them, and that started a rumpus because both of them would rather wear the red-flannel skirt than the pantalets. They ’most had a fight over it, but they decided to draw straws, and Skoodles lost. Then they got to dressing, and I had to hold my hand over Catty’s face and he had to stuff his fist into my mouth to keep ourselves from laughing out loud. You never saw sich looking critters in all your born life. They looked like as if they had escaped from a lunatic asylum while the keeper was having delirium tremens, or something like that, and when they saw each other I thought they was going to set down and cry.
“We can’t go through town lookin’ like this,” says Banty.
“We got to,” says Skoodles.
“Oh, my goodness!” says Banty, “the duet! We got to play the duet!”
“Like this?”
“We’ll be late now. We got to. I dassent not play it. Ma would fix me, and your Ma would fix you. It ’ll be worse not to show up than it will be to go like this.”
“I won’t.”