Elise. But hear mine first, dear. I think it was about two o'clock when I heard feet in the passageway and a noise at the door. I was frightened, but did not alarm mother; for why should burglars visit our poor home? After a while the noise ceased, and I ventured to get out of bed and softly open the door. There stood—what do you think, Ethel?
Ethel. I know.
Elise. No, you don't, you goose.
Ethel. I do know.
Elise. Silly child. Listen, a large basket—
Ethel. With our Thanksgiving dinner in it—a turkey and cranberry jelly. Oh, how pretty Red Cranberry was in her bright dress—and Nuts and Raisins—and Beets, Carrots, and Turnips—what a funny boy he was.
Elise. Ethel! are you ill?
Ethel. No, dear. And Miss Mince Pie was late, but she got there, and Golden Pumpkin was to make a pumpkin pie—
Elise. You are out of your head! Oh, my poor sister! you are coming down with a fever on Thanksgiving day—[Begins to cry.]
Ethel. Nonsense, darling. It was my dream. But I will wait and tell you about it later. Go on with your story. I am not ill.