Josephine's head was bent backward and she was helpless, unless she let go of the baby-carriage.

Josephine, however, had good lungs, and she screamed, as she was pulled backward, still holding to the little carriage, which was also somewhat tilted by the whole performance.
"Lemme be, you horrid little thing!" she screamed, "or I'll tell your ma." "She isn't my mother," said Maria in return.

"Let go of my baby." "She is your ma.

Your father married her, and she's your ma, and you can't help yourself.

Lemme go, or I'll tell on you." "Tell, if you want to," said Maria, firmly, actually swinging with her whole weight from Josephine's loop of braids.