“Why, Jan,” Prue exclaimed. “You’re a poet.”
“I feel as if I’d been listening to a fairy story,” Gladys said.
“With the lovely Daphne as the enchanted princess,” Ann added dreamily.
“I never realized before how really lovely Daphne was,” Sally laughed. “Honestly, Jan, I felt as if she was here in the room as you talked.”
Phyllis said nothing. She was curled up on one end of the bed, her head against Sally’s pillows, her arms stretched above her. Her face wore an expression of pride and ownership, but not surprise. Janet was her twin, and everything Janet did was perfect in her eyes. When other girls admired her, too, Phyllis just sat back and smiled contentedly.
“You’ll make a great old quartette,” Gladys laughed.
“Sort of a mutual admiration society,” Prue added.
“Phyl, I’d think you’d be jealous of this Daphne,” Ann laughed. “Won’t your nose be out of joint when she arrives?”
The twins stared at her in blank amazement.
“Jealous!” they said together. “Why, how perfectly silly.”