"I declare it's too vexatious!" said Margaret Dunscombe "here I've got this beautiful piece of blue satin, and can't do anything with it; it just matches that blue morocco it's a perfect match I could have made a splendid thing of it, and I have got some cord and tassels that would just do I declare it's too bad!"
Ellen's colour changed.
"Well, choose, Margaret," said Marianne.
"I don't know what to choose that's the thing. What can one do with red and purple morocco and blue satin? I might as well give up. I've a great notion to take this piece of yellow satin, and dress up a Turkish doll to frighten the next young one I meet with."
"I wish you would, Margaret, and give it to me when it's done," cried little Ellen Chauncey.
" 'Tain't made yet," said the other dryly.
Ellen's colour had changed and changed; her hand twitched nervously, and she glanced uneasily from Margaret's store of finery to her own.
"Come, choose, Margaret," said Ellen Chauncey; "I dare say
Ellen wants the blue morocco as much as you do."
"No, I don't!" said Ellen, abruptly, throwing it over the table to her; "take it, Margaret, you may have it."
"What do you mean?" said the other, astounded.