“What makes it yours?”
“I love it so.”
“Does loving a thing make it yours?”
“I think so, mother—at least more than anything else can. If I didn't love baby (which couldn't be, you know) she wouldn't be mine a bit. But I do love baby, and baby is my very own Dulcimer.”
“The baby's mine, Diamond.”
“That makes her the more mine, mother.”
“How do you make that out?”
“Because you're mine, mother.”
“Is that because you love me?”
“Yes, just because. Love makes the only myness,” said Diamond.