“Please, Miss Jones, may I help Mary to pick the books up? There are rather a lot.” Then, both on their knees, more whispers and giggles. Miss Jones, her voice trembling: “Children, I really insist—” And more books dropped, and more whispers and more protests, and so on ad infinitum. A beautiful game to be played all the morning.
Or there was the game of Not Hearing. Miss Jones would say: “And twice two are four.” Mary would repeat loudly: “And twice two is five—”
“Four, Mary.”
“Oh, I thought you said five.”
And then a second later Jeremy would ask:
“Did you say four or five, Miss Jones?”
“I told Mary I said four—”
“Oh, I've written five—and now it's all wrong. Didn't you write five, Mary?”
“Yes, I've written five. You did say four, didn't you, Miss Jones?”
“Yes—yes. And three makes—”