“How delightful! Frog green! It’s quite an innovation in fashions, and a very pretty one.”
Brightcoat’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at this little bit of innocent flattery, and if it showed vanity, vanity of a sort is a very delightful thing.
So Rosalie dressed with fluttering happiness and eager haste.
“Your hair doesn’t look a bit as if you’d taken pains with it,” said the frog from the bed, where it was sitting.
“What do you mean?” she asked, with sudden alarm.
“It’s very becoming.”
“I’d rather your flattery was a little less open. I know you mean well, but it’s embarrassing to have one’s defects spoken of so charmingly.”
By this time the dressing was completed, and in the eyes of her simple companion no one had ever looked more lovely.
“You must come too, Brightcoat. I shouldn’t think of leaving you here alone. Besides, you are always welcome at the house, and I am only there on suffrage. If I behave badly I must go. It’s a very terrible thing that, when you think about it. Enough to make me tremble and shake all over.”
So the frog jumped lightly from the bed on to her shoulder, and made a most delightful ornament.