"Oh, our Aunt Esta doesn't care anything at all about hats," I said.
"It's time she did!" said the Rich Man.
"We'll go out if you say so," I suggested, "and help them have a pleasant time."
The Rich Man was awful mad. He pointed at his plaid shawl! He pointed at his black face!
"What?" he said. "Go out like this? And make a fool of myself before that Ninny-Hat?"
"Why, he'd love it!" I said.
The Rich Man choked.
"That's quite enough reason!" he said.
There was a noise in the wood-shed. We could see the noise through the window. It was my Father trying to untie his wings. He couldn't.
The Rich Man seemed to feel better suddenly. He began to mop his face.