"Oh, mother," she cried, looking at herself in the mirror, "I'm a Little White Riding-Hood instead of a red one!"
"So you are!" said mother laughing. "I hope Granny Wolf will not eat you up."
Leslie laughed, too, and clapped her hands. "Oh, I'll go and see Granny Graham and play she is the wolf, only she is ever so much too kind to eat anybody. I ought to have something nice to take her, mother, you know Red Riding-Hood did."
"Oh, I'll go and see Granny Graham and play she is the wolf."
Mother gladly packed a basket with doughnuts and red apples, but Leslie was not satisfied. "I can take doughnuts any time, I'd like to take some of the oranges from Aunt Jo's box."
Mother looked a little surprised. "Are you quite sure you can spare them, dear? You do not have oranges very often."
"I'd like to," Leslie insisted earnestly. "I don't believe Red Riding-Hood was selfish, and I'm sure White Riding-Hood doesn't want to be."
So mother put in three big yellow oranges, and Leslie ran down the hill with her basket. Granny Graham was a tiny, sweet old lady who lived in a tiny cottage at the foot of the hill.
Leslie knocked at the door and a pleasant voice called, "Come in." Leslie opened the door and stood inside in her pretty furry things, feeling quite nice and shivery over even playing that Granny was a wolf.