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The white gloves, her prayer-book and candle-cloth, a few pennies in her bead purse; and 'twas done. The child was constantly twisted and turned and examined from every side.
She felt the little knots of paper on her head; to-morrow they would be released and would open into a cloud of ringlets; and the people, who would all look at her; and aunt.... Now just to recite her words once more for to-morrow in church.... And that pretty picture which the priest would give her.... Was she sure that nothing was forgotten? Just let her think again: and her candle-cloth?
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