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Updated: June 19, 2025
And I was dreadfully hungry. I sat down on a log and cried, too my feet ached so and my arms ached so from carrying this box. I decided to bury it and leave a note telling about it, for, honestly, Beryl, I didn't think then I'd live an hour longer, but I didn't have a pencil and when I started to dig with my hands the ground was so gooy that I couldn't bear to. Oh, I'll never forget it."
You don't make starch solid, Margy, you have to make it runny, all gooy like, don't you know?" "Of course, I know," retorted Margaret, "but I didn't do this, it did itself. I had it all nice and gooy for about half a second, then it cemented into adamant. There! I hate starch!" she admitted, ending up in a gale of laughter that advertised defeat.
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