This was an airy slim boy in shrimp-colored tights that made him look like a forked carrot, the rest of his gear was blue silk and dainty laces and ruffles; and he had long yellow curls, and wore a plumed pink satin cap tilted complacently over his ear.

By his look, he was good-natured; by his gait, he was satisfied with himself.

He was pretty enough to frame.

He arrived, looked me over with a smiling and impudent curiosity; said he had come for me, and informed me that he was a page.
"Go 'long," I said; "you ain't more than a paragraph." It was pretty severe, but I was nettled.

However, it never phazed him; he didn't appear to know he was hurt.