"Thank you," she said. "And now, who are you and what do you want?"
"My name," said I, "is Norval. And I want to know the way to the pageant-ground, and when does your scene come on?"
"It is a nice dress, isn't it?"
She rose and stood smoothing her frock and apron.
"Sweet. Only you ought to have bare brown legs."
"My dear man, this isn't the Garden of Eden."
"No? Some other Paradise, I suppose. Old Omar's, perhaps. Besides, I forgot. Dolls never go barefoot, do they?"
"Dolls?"
"Yes. Aren't you the 'great big beautiful doll' they sing of?"
She threw back her head, and laughed at that, pleasedly. Then she began to sing softly: