“Possible? I wonder if you did it correctly. What did you say?”
“I said,” replied Miss Frizzle, proud to have made no mistakes this time, “I said, ‘I’m goin’ to have a party six years old, and Auntie Prim says for the children to come early,—at ha’ pas’ two,—and she’ll be thankful when it’s over.’”
“You didn’t!” cried auntie, the color flying into her pale face, and her spectacles shining like diamonds.
“Well, I never!” said Dora, and sat right down by the oven-door to laugh. “But they do say, children and fools always speak the truth!”
Mrs. Prim resolved to keep calm, but this was very trying.
“Mary Gray,” said she, pressing her hands together quite sticky with dough, “I didn’t mean you to repeat the last part of that speech; I didn’t even know you had heard it. It does seem to me you are old enough to have a little sense of propriety. What can those ladies think of me? What can they think of you? I shouldn’t blame them if they didn’t let their children come, after such an invitation as that!”
Flaxie hung her head. What had she done so very wrong? She could never bear to be blamed; and I must relate that she was rude enough to slip out of the house while her aunt was still speaking, followed by Milly.
“She thinks children are goosies, and hates to hear ’em talk,” said she, the tears dripping over her apron.
“I’m drefful ’shamed; aren’t you?” said little Milly.
“Yes, I ’spect we’ve done something orful,” returned Flaxie.