"Oh, we're always busy. We make poems and draw pictures."
"For play?" David interrupted incredulously.
"Yes, it's lots of fun."
David could not hide his contempt.
"I don't see any fun there. The boys would laugh at me if I wrote poems. They'd call me a 'softy.' We leave things like that to the girls. Don't you play any games, any real games, I mean?"
"Yes, we play chess—"
"Chess, you play chess?"
"Nancy and I are always playing it."
"Pooh, that's an old man's game. It takes a year to make a move. Do you play cricket?"
"Oh, yes, I play cricket," said Edward, relying too confidently on the limited instruction from his father.