Alice—We can play with each other’s things. (holds out hand for doll.)
Ecila—(catching her hand back) You mustn’t. No one can touch another’s Christmas presents. If they do, they’ll get caught by the Wincheopactylus, and eaten for his Christmas dinner.
Frank—Well, of all the mean Christmases! That gun and engine are dandy, if only I had ’em, though! (Looks at Knarf, who is counting over his stones.) What are those good for?
Knarf—Why, they’re kites.
Frank—Kites. We call ’em rocks, or stones. You can’t fly them, I know.
Knarf—Oh yes, I can. You know that tall place you called a well? They’ll fly clear to the top of that, if I drop ’em.
Frank—(indignantly, looking at Dad) And see that one skate! Where’s the mate to it?
Dad—It doesn’t need a mate. You only skate on one foot at a time, you know.
Frank—I should think you’d look pretty, balancing on one skate on the ice.
All—Why, we don’t skate on ice!