"It would seem," said my Father, "as though it was the honor of the whole family that was involved!" He made a whisper in Carol's ear. "Go to it, Son!" he whispered.
Rosalee jumped to her feet. Carol jumped to his feet. I jumped to my feet. We snatched hands. We ran right into the Dining Room. Carol's face was shining.
"Who's going to be Posie-with-the-Sick-Bones?" I cried.
"S—s—h!" said everybody except our Aunt Esta.
Our Aunt Esta suddenly seemed very much encouraged. She didn't wait a minute. She snatched a little book from her pocket. It was a little book that she had made herself all full of typewriter directions about the Game.
"Someone, of course," she said, "will have to be the Witch,—someone who knows the Game, I mean, so perhaps I—?"
We rushed to help her drag the old battered tricycle to the Porch! We helped her open up every porch door till all the green lawn and gay petunia blossoms came right up and fringed with the old porch rug! We helped her tie on the Witch's funny hat! And the scraggly gray wig! And the great horn-rimmed spectacles! We helped her climb into the tricycle seat! We were too excited to stay on the porch! We wheeled her right out on the green lawn itself! The green lilac hedge reared all up around her like a magic wall!
We screamed with joy! The Rich Man jumped when we screamed. The Rich Man's name was Mr. Trent.
"And Mr. Trent shall be the Black Woman who pushes you all about!" we screamed.
"I will not!" said Mr. Trent.