“I’d like some of all of them,” she said.
But mamma helped her by putting aside those that would not do. Yellow would not be pretty for baby, she said, nor green, nor bright red, nor deep blue or purple; and that left only the soft delicate colours—pale pink and pale blue and very pale lilac. There were pretty white ribbons too, with very fine little checks and spots over them, which she said would be very nice.
So then Mary found it easier, and she chose four sets—blue, with a little white line down the edge; and white, with a pink check over it; and another, with tiny blue spots, and one of the pale pinky lilac. It was like wild geranium colour, mamma said, and as Mary did not know what that flower was, mamma promised to look for one in the fields to show her.
Then there came the choosing of Mary’s sashes. Mamma got two, and Mary was quite pleased, for she saw that mamma was the best chooser after all. One was pale blue, very wide, and with a white line down the side. It was just “like the mamma of Dolly’s blue ribbon,” Mary said, and the other was all pink, very pretty pale pink. Mary did not like it quite so well, but still she felt sure it would look nice, or else mamma “wouldn’t have chosened it.”
It would take too long to tell you about all the things mamma bought. After she had finished at the draper’s she went to the shoemaker’s and got boots for the boys and slippers for Mary, and dear sweet little blue silk shoes for Dolly. They were to be her very best ones, to match her blue ribbons. Mary was so pleased that her mamma got them.
After that came the great thing of all—that was the perambulator. There was a man in that town who made pony-carriages, and he made perambulators too. Mamma took Mary into a large room which was all glass at the front, and was quite filled with pony-carriages. They did look so shiny and nice—some of them were wicker, and some were made of wood like big carriages. Mary would have liked to get into them all, one after the other, to see which was the most comfortable, and she could not help thinking how very nice it would be to be a pony-carriage man’s little girl. What lovely games she and Leigh and Artie could have in this big room! It would be even nicer than having a draper’s shop. She did not know that carriage-builders’ children and drapers’ children are not allowed to play with their fathers’ carriages and ribbons any more than she and her brothers would be allowed to pull about the books in the library, or to gather all the fruit and flowers in the garden.
They passed through the big room with the glass front to a smaller one behind, where there were a good many perambulators. The man who had shown them in explained to Mary’s mamma about the different kinds and told her the prices; and mamma chose three which she made the man draw out by themselves in front of all the others.
“It must be one of those,” she said; “I want a really good one, but still rather plain and strong, as it is for the country roads.”
Mary thought to herself what a good way of choosing mamma had; it makes choosing so much easier if you put away the things that won’t do. And while she was thinking this, mamma told her she wanted her to get into the perambulator standing next, and say if it was comfortable.
“I will lift her in,” she said to the man. “It’s quite strong enough, I suppose?”