O, do you know this horse was white, with silvery wings, wild as a hawk; and, once in a while, he would fold up his wings, and trot round on the mountain!" Florence yawned, and waxed her thread.
"O, it was a splendid bridle, this man had, made of gold; and I forgot--the mountain the horse trotted round on was called Helicon.

And the man mounted him, and went up, up, till they were nothing but specks in the sky." "A likely story," said Florence; "there, you've told enough! I don't want to hear any more such nonsense." "Well, if you don't want to hear about the monster they killed, you needn't; that's all I can say; but the young man loved that horse; and he kissed him, too, he was so splendid!" "Kiss a horse!" Flossy looked very, much disgusted.
"Why, I've kissed my pony a great many times," said Susy, bravely, "right between his eyes; and he almost kisses me.

He wants to say, 'I love you.' I can see it in his eyes." By this time Flossy had finished her doll's garment, and, putting it on the little thing's shoulders, held up the doll to be admired.
"I think her opera cloak is very 'bewitching,' don't you, Susy?
It is trimmed with ermine, because she is a queen, and is going to the opera." "It looks well enough," said Susy, indifferently, "but it isn't ermine; it's only white cat's fur, with black spots sewed on," "Of course it isn't real ermine!" replied Florence; "but I play that it is, and it's just as well." "But you know all the while it's a make-believe.

She hasn't any more sense than a stick of wood, either; and I don't see any sport in playing with dolls." "And I don't see any sense in fairy stories," retorted Flossy.

"Do you know what Percy says about you?
He says your head is as full of airy notions as a dandelion top.