“Yes, we are going up on the bank to play with Blanche Jones and Fanny Townsend: mamma said we might,” replied Flaxie, dancing.
Preston was very glad of the company of two such happy little girls, only he forgot to say so.
“And we’ve built a house of birch bark under the trees. But it hasn’t any stove-pipe!” said Flaxie, who had never forgotten that unfortunate house that Jack built.
“And we’re going to have a doll’s party in it,” remarked Milly.
“Oh, no, not a party, it’s a reception,” corrected Flaxie; “that’s what Fanny Townsend says they call ’em in Washington. My biggest dolly, Christie Gretchen, is going to receive. Oh, you don’t know how beautifully she’s dressed! And all the other dollies are coming to call on her, with the cunningest little cards in their pockets.”
“Oh, do your dollies play cards?”
“No, indeed; it’s visiting cards,—don’t you know?—with their names printed on them, just like ladies. Ninny did that.”
As they chattered in this way they were drawing near the Proudfit house, which stood at the foot of the hill, and little Milly sang,
“There was an old woman lived under the hill;”