(DAN, WITH A WHISTLE:—“Well, I guess nobody can say Peter can’t write fiction after THAT.”
SARA RAY, WIPING AWAY HER TEARS:—“It’s a very interesting story, but it ends SO sadly.”
FELIX:—“What made you call it The Battle of the Partridge Eggs when the bluejay had just as much to do with it?”
PETER, SHORTLY:—“Because it sounded better that way.”
FELICITY:—“Did she eat the eggs raw?”
SARA RAY:—“Poor little thing, I suppose if you’re starving you can’t be very particular.”
CECILY, SIGHING:—“I wish you’d let her go home safe, Peter, and not put her to such a cruel death.”
BEVERLEY:—“I don’t quite understand where the little girl got her gun and ammunition.”
PETER, SUSPECTING THAT HE IS BEING MADE FUN OF:—“If you could write a better story, why didn’t you? I give you the chance.”
THE STORY GIRL, WITH A PRETERNATURALLY SOLEMN FACE:—“You shouldn’t criticize Peter’s story like that. It’s a fairy tale, you know, and anything can happen in a fairy tale.”