The waist proved almost as big a problem as the skirt. She buttoned it on over her own dress, but even then it was about twice too large for her.
She looked at herself in a glass, and burst forth into hearty peals of laughter.
"I declah"—already she pronounced "declare" almost like the darkies—"I feel like a cat dressed up in clothes. It can't move without tumbling all over itself, and neither can I."
She held up her arms and flapped them. They were almost lost in the voluminous sleeves. Her hands were not to be seen at all.
"I never can manage a horse without hands," she murmured.
She overcame this difficulty by pinning up the bothersome sleeves.
Next, she jammed her mother's riding hat down on her curls. It, too, was much too large for her, and had some blond frizzes sewn across the front of it. The hat with its false front added the finishing touch of rakishness to Beth. She, however, was as proud as a peacock over her attire.
As fast as her awkward skirt would allow, she hurried in search of January.
He was very much amused over her appearance.
"Missy, I declah, yo' looks like a rag bag dat needs some rags to fill it out. Whaffor don't yo' get chuck full of somethin'?"