“You are horrid.”
“But I like the pout. You pout ever so much better than you act—you should stick to pouting. Pout now!”
“I shan’t.”
“Come, just a little one—one small pout.”
“No.”
“I insist.”
“You can’t make me.”
“I’m waiting.”
Esme covered her mouth with her hand. “Now what are you going to do?”
“Wait—go on waiting.”