"We do not know them at all; it will be the first time of our going to Tourville, and if I were to be dressed anyhow, it would not be very nice for your grandmamma, who got us invited; and so papa told me to have a dress made, and he gave me two pounds."
"What are you going to have made?"
"I don't know at all; advise me, will you?"
For the last minute or two Bijou had seemed to be turning something over in her mind.
"If you like," she said at last, "we might be dressed in the same way, you and I; that would be awfully nice!"
"What is your dress?"
"My dress does not exist yet; it is a thing of the future! It will be pink, of course—pink crêpe—quite simple—straight skirts, cut like a ballet-dancer's skirts, so that there will be no hem to make them heavy, three skirts, one over the other, all of the same length, of course—three, that makes it cloudy-looking; more than that smothers you up; and it will fall in large, round godets. Then there will be a little gathered bodice, very simple; little puffed sleeves, with a lot of ribbon bows and ends hanging, and then ribbon round the waist, with two long bows and long ends—ribbon as wide as your hand, not any wider.'
"It will be pretty."
"And it would suit you wonderfully well."
"But shouldn't you mind my being dressed like you?" asked Jeanne, rather timidly.