“Oh! I'm so glad you've come,” she said. “Now you can help me with these troublesome dolls.”
“What's the matter with them?”
“Why, we've just heard that Aunt Julia and Fanny are coming to tea this evening, and of course I want the dolls to look decent. I wouldn't have Fanny see them in their everyday clothes for anything; and they don't seem to have enough good clothes to go around.”
“Let's see what they've got,” said Marty, plunging into business with her usual energy.
“Well,” said Edith, “Queenie has her new white Swiss, so she's all right, and she can have Virginia's surah sash. Louisa Alcott can wear her black silk skirt and borrow Queenie's blue cashmere waist. But Harriet has nothing fit for an evening.”
“Let her wear the sailor suit she came in, and say she's just home from the seaside,” suggested Marty, after a moment's meditation.
“Yes, that will do,” replied Edith. “But what about Virginia? Her white dress is soiled, her red gauze is badly torn, and she can't borrow from the others because she's so much larger. To be sure she has this pale blue tea-gown I made myself. Do you think it would be good enough?” and she held it up doubtfully.
“No,” said Marty candidly, “I don't think it would. It isn't made very well. It's kind of baggy. Hasn't she anything else?”
“Nothing but a brown woollen walking dress and a Mother Hubbard wrapper.”
“Neither of those will do,” Marty decided.