"Now, Trix, please, please don't be a boy," cried Margery.
"Well, I think it's mean; I've wanted to be a boy all my life, and you won't even let me play one," grumbled Trix. "But I'll be a daring, splendid girl, then. Couldn't we take a name out of a book?"
"Yes; don't you think so, Amy?"
"I don't see why not," said Amy.
"Then I'll be Catharine Seyton, who barred the door with her arm when the mean Lady of Lochleven tried to break through into the queen's chamber. I heard my brothers reading about it," cried Trix.
"It's in 'The Abbot,' by Scott," said Jack, glad to show his acquaintance with literature, which Trix evidently considered grown up. "I'll take Sir Harry Hotspur," he added.
"Isn't that history?" asked Margery doubtfully.
"No, not exactly," replied Jack. "It's Shakespeare, too; I'll take only his part." Which, though not very clear, was satisfactory.
"I'm going to be Mrs. Peace Plenty, a philanthropist," announced Amy, convulsing the rest.
"P. P. P.," gasped Margery, emerging from a sofa pillow with her usually pale face crimson. "O Amy, you are so funny, and you never just seem to mean to be."