"I was five and Molly only three and a half then.

Poor little Molly, how funny she was!" And a hand crept in under Molly's sleeve, and a whisper reached her ear.
"I don't mean to be cross or to tease you, Molly." And Molly in a moment was her own queer, happy, muddle-headed little self again.
"Dear Sylvia," she whispered in return, "of course you don't.

You never do, and if the top of the bed _did_ come down, I'm sure I'd pull you out first, however sleepy I was.

Only of course I know it _won't_, and it's just my silly way, but when I'm as big as you, Sylvia, I'll get out of it, I'm sure." "You're as big as me now, you silly girl," said Sylvia laughingly, which was true.

Molly was tall and well-grown for her age, while Sylvia was small, so that very often, to Molly's delight, they were taken for twins.
"In my body, but not in my mind," rejoined Molly, with a little sigh.