“Yes, I know. They will make you invisible—as a girl. Do you wish to be seen? If not, go and put them on and let me get at something else. We still have other fish to fry.”
“But——” started Garde, when Goody pushed her into the next apartment.
Goody continued to rummage in the chest, producing a hat, much the worse for age, a pair of stout shoes, a stick and a large, red handkerchief. Into this handkerchief she knotted a number of slices of bread, some pickles and some cold meat. She then secured it on the end of the stick, and dropped inside it a little wad of money, tied in a parcel by itself.
Garde now returned, blushing as red as a rose and bending her legs inward at the knee most shyly, although anything prettier could hardly be conceived, and there was no one present save the old woman to look, anyway.
“Oh dear me!” said the jackdaw. “Oh dear me!”
“Stand up stiffly on your pins,” commanded Goody. “You are not invisible as a girl at all. Come, now, be a man.”
“But—Goody——” gasped Garde. “I—I really can’t——”
“Yes, you can. You must,” corrected the old woman. “Or else you can give up running away altogether.”
“Oh no, no!”
“Then do as I tell you. Feet more apart, knees stiff. That’s better.”