"Presto, change!" cried Ned, and pulled down the top of the blanket. There lay a little, wrinkled, rosy face, a baby's face, and over it was moving a little wrinkled hand.
I jumped, and then I screamed; and then I ran out of the room and back again.
"O, O, O! Stop her! Hold her!" said Ned.
But they couldn't do it. I rushed up to the baby, who cried in my face.
"What IS that?" said I; and then I burst into tears.
"Your little sister," said father.
"It isn't," sobbed I, and broke out laughing.
Everybody else laughed, too.
"Say that again," said I.
"Your little sister," repeated father.