What ideas you do get into your head!" But Elisabeth's volatile thoughts had flown off in another direction.
"You really have got awfully nice-coloured hair," she remarked, Chris having taken his cap off for the sake of coolness, as he was heated with his toil.

"I do wish I had light hair like yours.

Angels, and goddesses, and princesses, and people of that kind always have golden hair; but only bad fairies and cruel stepmothers have nasty dark hair like me.

I think it is horrid to have dark hair." "I don't: I like dark hair best; and I don't think yours is half bad." Christopher never overstated a case; but then one had the comfort of knowing that he always meant what he said, and frequently a good deal more.
"Don't you really, Chris?
I think it is hideous," replied Elisabeth, taking one of her elf-locks between her fingers and examining it as if it were a sample of material; "it is like that ugly brown seaweed which shows which way the wind blows--no, I mean that shows whether it is going to rain or not." "Never mind; I've seen lots of people with uglier hair than yours." Chris really could be of great consolation when he tried.
"Aren't the trees lovely when they have got all their leaves off ?" said Elisabeth, her thoughts wandering again.

"I believe I like them better now than I do in summer.