"Wine cellar!"
It was Hotstuff, the ever-present eavesdropper, who spoke up. "Hey, gang, there's a wine cellar!" he announced. "Cool, huh?"
"Say," Floss drawled, sidling up to Marc, "you've really got class, huh? A wine cellar is right up my alley. The lower I get the better I like it."
Toffee stepped forward, eyes glittering. "You may get lower than you care to, doll, if you keep on like that. You may find yourself six feet under with a very dim out-look."
"Listen, sister," Floss said belligerently, "I'll tangle with you any time."
"You may never get untangled if you do," Toffee flared. "You may wind up wearing that fright wig of yours on your bustle!"
"I'll risk it, carrot-top!"
"There's no risk involved," Toffee said, doubling her fists. "I'll make you a money-back guarantee!"
"Well, well," Hotstuff said approvingly, "the girls are getting real well acquainted, ain't they?"