Dotty endured the weight as long as she could; then, gently pushing off the "little hindering" hand, she said,-- "And now, as we go along, we might as well be playing, Flyaway." "Fwhat ?" "Playing a play, dear.

We'll make believe you're the queen with a gold crown on your head." Katie put her hand to her forehead.
"O, no, dear; you haven't anything on your head now but the broadest-brimmedest kind of a hat; we'll _call_ it a crown.

And I'm the king that's married to you." "O, yes, mallied." "And we're going--going--" "Rouspin," suggested Flyaway.
"No; great people like us don't go raspberrying.

Sit down here, Queenie, under this acorn tree, and I'll tell you; we're going to the castle." "O, yes, the cassil ?" "Where we keep our throne, dear, and our gold dresses." "Does we have any gold dollies to the cassil ?" "O, yes, Queenie; all sizes." "Does we have," continued Flyaway, winking slowly, "does we have--dip toast ?" "Why, Queenie, what should we want of that?
Yes, we can have dip toast, I s'pose; the girl can make it on the gold stove, with a silver pie-knife.

But we shall have nicer things than ever you saw." "Nicer than turnipers ?" "Pshaw! turnovers are nothing, Queenie; we shall give them to the piggy.
We shall live on wedding cake and strawberries.