“What are you doing, Eunice?” asked Marjorie, looking in, in passing the door.
“I’m fixing my Tam,” Eunice replied, cocking her head critically on one side, and surveying the cap as she held it up on her fist. “It doesn’t fit my head very well, and I thought I’d poke it up on one side with a red ribbon bow and this red quill, like May Chester’s.”
“I don’t think Eunice has a very Tammy head,” struck in Cricket, from the window-seat. “Her Tam never stays on a minute; her hair’s so slippery. Frousy hair like mine has one advantage.”
Cricket’s curly topknot kept her scarlet skating-cap always in the right place, but Eunice’s satin-smooth hair did not afford a good foundation for her hats.
“I can’t get it right, though,” said Eunice, despairingly. She was hot and tired, and if the truth must be told, a little cross. “This ribbon won’t go in the right place, somehow.”
“I tried to make a rosette, but it wouldn’t rosettate,” said Cricket, putting down her book and coming forward to help look on. “Let Marjorie do it, Eunice. It looks so un-stylish the way you have it.”
“No, I don’t want to,” said Eunice, holding on to her cap. “I want to do it myself. Marjorie doesn’t know what I want.”
“Yes, I do, child,” said Marjorie, trying to take the ribbon. “I can do it in a moment. Let me have it.”
“No, I won’t,” said Eunice, decidedly. “I can do it myself.”
“But why won’t you let me?” urged Marjorie.