And I can play a little on the piano and on the banjo, and I suppose it's shocking; but really I don't care to play any better than I do.

I can't paint, and I can't write stories, but I don't want to do either." "You can keep house," said Marian.
Patty's eyes lighted up.
"Yes," she said; "isn't it ridiculous?
But I do really believe that's my ambition.

To keep house just perfectly, you know, and have everything go not only smoothly but happily." "You ought to have been a _chatelaine_ of the fourteenth century," said Nan.
"Yes," said Patty eagerly; "that's just my ambition.

What a pity it's looking backward instead of forward.

But I would love to live in a great stone castle, all my own, with a moat and drawbridge and outriders, and go around in a damask gown with a pointed bodice and big puffy sleeves and a ruff and a little cap with pearls on it, and a bunch of keys jingling at my side." "They usually carry the keys in a basket," observed Marian; "and you forgot to mention the falcon on your wrist." "So I did," said Patty, "but I think the falcon would be a regular nuisance while I was housekeeping, so I'd put him in the basket, and set it up on the mantelpiece, and keep my keys jingling from my belt." "Well, it seems," said Nan, "that Patty has more hopes of realising her ambition than either of us." "Speak for yourself," said Marian.
"I think I have," said Patty.