Lizzie. Well, yesterday, at just twelve o'clock, I was in the hall; the door-bell rang; I opened it; there was a box for Miss Hannah Jones; I took it; I carried it to her room; I opened—
Fanny and Hetty. The box?
Lizzie. The door; she wasn't there. I put it on the table; it slipped off; the cover rolled off; and such a sight!
Fanny. What was it?
Hetty. O, do tell us!
Lizzie. Four—great—red—
Fanny and Hetty. What? What?
Lizzie. Chignons!
Hetty. Chignons? Why, Miss Precise has forbidden our wearing them.
Fanny. O, it's horrible!