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Updated: May 13, 2025
"No more can I when I'm as unhappy as this. Poetry's the last thing you think of when you're mizzy." "We could dress up, anyway," said Edred hopefully. "The bits of armor out of the hall, and the Indian feather head-dresses father brought home, and I have father's shooting-gaiters and brown paper tops, and you can have Aunt Edith's Roman sash. It's in the right-hand corner drawer.
Betty came and sat on the arm of her aunt's chair. "It's not fair to tease me," she said, "and tantalise me. You know how mizzy I am." "No. I don't know anything. You won't tell me anything. Go and get " "Dear, darling, pretty, kind, clever Aunt," cried Betty, "I'd give my ears to go." "Then borrow a large knife from cook, and sharpen it on the front door-step!
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