Anne pounced on Dora like a wild cat. There was a loud crash that only intensified Marilla's headache, but she was not the only one with an aching head.
Dora staggered, one hand nursing her bruised head, the other clutching her stomach. "You've killed me..." she whispered, her face pinched rather unattractively with pain, "but you're not rid of me that easily...gasp...I'll be there, waiting outside your window...wheeze...watching you in your sleep...just you wait, Anne Shirley!" and with that Dora collapsed dramatically.
Everyone was rather shocked at Anne's behaviour, nobody more so than Anne herself.
"Why don't we have some tea?" suggested Diana tentatively.
"Diana, that's a wonderful idea...wait don't move your head, there's something on your cheek," said Lance softly as he brushed his fingers gently across her face, "...an eyelash, will you make a wish?" his voice, which sounded like warm honey dripped lusciously over a slab or rich, dark chocolate broke on the last syllable as if his future happiness depended on Diana's answer.
"I...I..." stuttered Diana...
"I wish... I wish..... I wish we could just have this darn old wedding over and done with." Diana suddenly exploded in an unladylike way. "It's really hard on my nerves. And I'm not even the one getting married. It's so streeeessssful!" she ended in a pitiful wail.
"Oh Diana, you've expressed my feelings exactly." Anne embraced the screaming, writhing Diana. "Kindred spirits always know how each other feel." she explained to Lance.
"You?" Di asked stupidly. "How? This is an awf'lly trying business, Anne Shirley. It's because I'm not getting married today. When you sent my Fred away with a flea in his ear because he wasn't like our dark ideal...." Diana sobbed uncontrollably at the memory.
"Not like our dark ideal..." Anne murmured. "Oh, you express my thoughts exactly, oh, bosom friend of my heart." Anne's eyes shone with the marvel of their kindredness. She had a sudden revelation. "Why, thank you for the suggestion, sweet Diana! I'm not getting married today."
"What?" Marilla and Gilbert asked at the same time.
"I can't marry you, Gil." Anne confessed.
"What?" Gilbert bellowed more loudly.
"Oh, Gil, there are so many things I've always dreamed of for the day I got married..."
"And I suppose I'm not one of them?" Gilbert was quiet and threatening, his face pale but dangerously angry.
"Look, Gil. I haven't even got a wedding dress." Anne protested. "Not anymore," she cast a baleful glance at the white heap that was Dora.
"Gil, all I've got is my old striped drugget. Can't you see that it's just hopelessly unromantic to be married in that?" Anne pleaded.
"Diana can lend you a dress." Gilbert was not persuaded.
"Diana? Gilbert," Anne said patiently and tragically, "I have red hair, and all her dresses are pink!"
"Anne, I have no intention of being jilted at the altar." Gilbert declared stubbornly. "If you won't marry me today, I will marry someone in a white dress."
"Me?" Dora squeaked hopefully at his feet.