The three girls looked at each other.
“You tell them, Sally,” Janet said, but Sally shook her head.
“No, Jan, Taffy’s more yours than ours,” she replied, and Phyllis nodded.
“Go ahead,” she encouraged. “If we were talking about Sally I’d be spokesman.”
“Preserve my character,” laughed Sally.
“Oh, don’t worry; they’d never learn the truth from me,” Phyllis said airily.
“We know all there is to know about Sally,” Prue exclaimed.
“Yes, Jan, tell us about this Daphne. She has a lovely name,” Ann added.
“Well, it exactly suits her,” Janet began, “only we call her Taffy because she has a mop of hair that looks exactly like taffy candy, the rich yellow kind, and her eyes are green, just the color of the sea, when you look straight down into it on a misty day, and her cheeks are like rose petals, not bright pink, but a soft, delicate tint, and her cheeks are ivory white, like cream. She has long slender hands and the most wonderful voice you ever heard; it’s soft and furry; she always drawls; in fact, Taffy always looks and talks as if she were half asleep. Her eyelashes are so long and heavy that they almost cover her eyes. When she opens them wide she looks as if she were surprised at what she saw. She’s got the keenest sense of humor you ever heard of, and when she says a thing it sounds twice as funny as if anyone else had said it, because of her queer little laugh.”
Janet stopped and looked suddenly very self-conscious while the girls looked at her with a new expression in their eyes.