Your colors might run, too," he said.
"Don't my colors run whenever I run ?" she asked.
"Not in the way I mean.

If they get wet, the reds and greens and yellows and purples of your patches might run into each other and become just a blur--no color at all, you know." "Then," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'll be careful, for if I spoiled my splendid colors I would cease to be beautiful." "Pah!" sneered the Glass Cat, "such colors are not beautiful; they're ugly, and in bad taste.

Please notice that my body has no color at all.
I'm transparent, except for my exquisite red heart and my lovely pink brains--you can see 'em work." "Shoo--shoo--shoo!" cried Scraps, dancing around and laughing.

"And your horrid green eyes, Miss Bungle! You can't see your eyes, but we can, and I notice you're very proud of what little color you have.
Shoo, Miss Bungle, shoo--shoo--shoo! If you were all colors and many colors, as I am, you'd be too stuck up for anything." She leaped over the cat and back again, and the startled Bungle crept close to a tree to escape her.

This made Scraps laugh more heartily than ever, and she said: "Whoop-te-doodle-doo! The cat has lost her shoe.
Her tootsie's bare, but she don't care, So what's the odds to you ?" "Dear me, Ojo," said the cat; "don't you think the creature is a little bit crazy ?" "It may be," he answered, with a puzzled look.
"If she continues her insults I'll scratch off her suspender-button eyes," declared the cat.
"Don't quarrel, please," pleaded the boy, rising to resume the journey.
"Let us be good comrades and as happy and cheerful as possible, for we are likely to meet with plenty of trouble on our way." It was nearly sundown when they came to the edge of the forest and saw spread out before them a delightful landscape.