Come on, it will be a jolly lark." "I would n't for the world; it would be so mean.

Take 'em off, Tom, and I 'll play anything else you like." "I ain't going to dress up for nothing; I look so lovely, someone must admire me.

Take me down, Polly, and see if they don't call me 'a sweet creature.'" Tom looked so unutterably ridiculous as he tossed his curls and pranced, that Polly went off into another gale of merriment; but even while she laughed, she resolved not to let him mortify his sister.
"Now, then, get out of the way if you won't come; I 'm going down," said Tom.
"No, you 're not." "How will you help it, Miss Prim ?" "So." And Polly locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and nodded at him defiantly.
Tom was a pepper-pot as to temper, and anything like opposition always had a bad effect.

Forgetting his costume, he strode up to Polly, saying, with a threatening wag of the head, "None of that.

I won't stand it." "Promise not to plague Fan, and I 'll let you out." "Won't promise anything.