“Where did you get all these?—and what do you want them for?”
“’Cause all the girls have them. I took some of the pieces left from the millinery store——”
“Yes?”
“And I cut some weenty bits of my hair ribbons and I traded for some of the mixy ones—and the quilt pieces.”
Chicken Little shut her lips tight with an air of finality.
Chicken Little obeyed slowly.
The ribbons were shortened anywhere from one inch to a quarter of a yard. Some looked as if she had taken the ribbon and left the “weenty” piece.
Mrs. Morton’s face was a study. For a moment she seemed to be struck speechless. It was only a moment.
“Your ribbons are ruined—I never saw such a child! You knew better than that and you shall be punished severely. Go right to your practising now and I’ll think this matter over. But—you cannot help the boys with the furnace.”