“She must be the witch,” Pauline whispered to Judy. “Doesn’t she scare you?”
“Her hair is green, too,” Flo observed with a giggle. “How about washing your hair with green hair wash, Clarissa? You said you’d do anything to get on TV. Would you play the part of an old witch?”
“I—I don’t know,” she faltered. “I’d hate to make myself any uglier than I am.”
Obviously the witch could hear the whispered conversation behind her. Making her voice sound old and cackling, she said without turning her head, “So you think I’m ugly, my pretty? Wait until you see the curse I put on the child! I hope I don’t scare any little kiddies who may be watching—”
“You scare me,” Clarissa interrupted. “I can see your face in the mirror.”
“It’s bad luck to look into a mirror over anyone’s shoulder,” the witch warned her. “Why don’t you go away?”
“I’m sorry.” Clarissa, her eyes still fixed on the mirrored face of the witch, was backing out into the corridor toward a closed door.
“Is that another dressing room, Irene?” asked Flo. “We didn’t see your guest star, Francine Dow.”
“Would you know her?” asked Judy. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t. She’s appeared in so many different roles. I don’t even know what color her hair is.”
