"I don't think there are any star-gleams amongst the cabbages in this garden," she replied. "Only slugs."
"I don't care," I said; "the fact remains that Priscilla ought to be constantly wondering what the cabbages do say to each other when they have lonesome feels at night."
"Priscilla," I began again, "in about three years you will be seven years old and quite a big girl. What will you play at then?"
"Oh, I san't play at all," she said. "I sall go visiting and sopping."
"Anything else?"
"Oh, yes, I sall have a knife."
"A pocket-knife?"
"No, not a pocket-knife, a knife to cut meat wiv, of course."
I had forgotten this goal of maidenly desires.
"And won't you go long walks in the big woods with me and tell me the names of all the flowers and what they are thinking about?"