No, sweet heart, they are not coming back.
Only you and Bradley wish you had got through us all. Bijou, Bedelia and Brooklynn were more than happy their dirty laundry wasn't hung out for all to see – especially Brooklynn.
It was just a figure of speech, you were mostly very charming and complimentary and not too embarrassing.
I read it.
I asked to see a copy and was given one. It seems that everything you said was written down word for word. People think you are worthy of being recorded for posterity's sake, sweet heart. Perhaps you could start to think before you speak, just a suggestion.
No, you know Beatrix only reads her silly novels and Shaw. Still you should be nicer to her – she's laced up in whale bones but she isn't very secure about herself.
Very ridiculous. But don't you tell her I said it either.
I was thinking–
I was thinking perhaps you could have a ball. For your birthday. All our sisters would be there but I'm not sure I could make them dance. Badr will completely refuse and Brooklynn will sulk away in a corner like she does–
Don't get so excited, please, it's not good for you. Sweet heart– sweet heart, calm down!
Nothing's certain yet. Beth and Bijou have said they'll organise it, but there's Father to get past.
No, you can't talk to him. You'll get all wound up and he'll worry and fret and put a stop to the whole thing. Maybe if I get Bakari to lay the groundwork–
It's not–
Don't get your–
Stop–
Now look what you've done! The blips have gone haywire and your drips are practically running backward. Would you settle down and act responsibly – if not for your heart then for the cost of replacing all this stuff when you break it! Lie yourself down and relax, it's time for bed now anyway.
That's alright, sweet heart. I'm sorry too, for yelling. I don't want you getting your hopes up. Father's not going to like it, not one little bit. And there is a severe drought of the most handsome princes you've ever seen at the moment. Tuck yourself in, I'll call the nurse.
Ay me! I suppose, if I absolutely must, since you're twisting my arm.
Of course you're not, it's another figure of speech. Which story do you want?
But we read that every night!
Fine, fine. Where's it got to? Thank you.
'There was once upon a time a king with twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the other–'
Last, then. Each one more beautiful than the last. The book still says 'other' though.
Yes. Could we have a mug of warm milk and her night medication, thank you.
And the youngest princess, who was the most beautiful of them all, had a heart made of pure gold. Which should have made her the nicest little girl who ever lived but sadly it was not so, for she often would often get snippy at her sister who was very kindly trying to read her a bedtime story–
It does so! I'm reading it straight off the page.
Well, the author came in this morning and changed it. I had a nice long chat with him about bluebells.
No, you can't see the book! You should trust me.
Because I'm your big sister. I would never lie to you.