… For thine is the colander, the noodle, and the sauce, forever and ever. RAmen.

Ring, ring, rin- What! Nice to hear from you too, Spect. Why are you so aggy?

Sybil had picked armfuls of lilies and daisies and roses from the garden and every singl gladiolus, gathering them in the earliest morning when they were fresh and packing them carefully into an applebox on the carrier of her bike.

In the second row of the cavalcade were Francie, Fanny's god-daughter, now thirteen years old and already elegant in long frilled pantalettes, tartan skirts, and a leghorn hat with streamers, …