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Updated: May 3, 2025
"They are playing be gladdy what-you-call-'ems, like the Romans, Uncle Fritz," called out Demi, whose eyes were bigger than ever with the excitement of this new pastime. "They were a fine set of brutes; but we have learned something since then, I hope, and I cannot have you make my barn a Colosseum. Who proposed this?" asked Mr. Bhaer. "Dan," answered several voices.
"And I must say I like it myself. Old-fashioned street full of kids streaming in for ice-cream, garden with stocks and what-you-call-'ems all blooming together you know, I had a sort of notion you weren't half as nice as you are!" Martie laughed, pleased at the frank audacity. "You fit into it all so pleasantly!" he expanded his thought. "I don't know why you say that," she answered, surprised.
It was a lovely day, although very warm. The morning sun turned the woods to fairylike glades. Tish sat on the front seat, erect and staring ahead. Aggie bent over and touched my arm lightly. "Isn't she wonderful!" she whispered; "like some adventurer of old Balboa discovering the Pacific Ocean, or Joan of Arc leading the what-you-call-'ems." But somehow my enthusiasm was dying.
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