"I got an island, and everything," announced Henrietta. "I'm going to be just as rich as you are, but I won't be so mean."
"Then you would better begin by not talking meanly," advised Jessie, admonishingly.
"Well," sniffed Henrietta, "I haven't got to let 'em on my island if I don't want to, have I?"
"You needn't fret," laughed Sally Moon. "Your island is like your witch's curse. All in your mind."
"Is that so?" flared out little Henrietta. "Your old picnic was just spoiled by my bad weather, wasn't it? Well, then, wait till you try to get on my island," and she shook a threatening head, and even her green parasol, in her earnestness.
Sally laughed again scornfully. But Belle flounced out of the automobile.
"Come on!" she exclaimed. "Bill will never get this car fixed."
"Oh, yes, I will, Belle," came Bill's muffled voice from under the car. "I always do."
"Well, who wants to wait all day for you to repair it, and then ride home with a fellow all smeared up with oil and soot? Come on, Sally."