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Updated: May 18, 2025
But Hippolyta was a person evidently accustomed to have her own way, and she ran straight up to Josey Letherbarrow as though he were the one choice hero picked out of a world. "Zozey!" she screamed, stretching out a pair of short, mottled arms; "My own bootiful Zozey-posey! Tum and pick fowers!" With an ecstatic shriek at nothing in particular, she caught the edge of the old man's smock.
"Dunno!" she said "'Specks I will! But oh, my Zozey-Posey IS so bad!" and she screwed her little flaxen head round with an expression of the most comical distress "See my wip?" And she held up a long stem of golden-rod in flower, "Zozey dot to be wipped poor Zozey! But he's dot to be tied up fust!"
Pausing, John leaned on the gate and looked at the two with a smile. "Ullo, Passon!" said Ipsie, turning her blue eyes up at him with a confidential air "Tum an' tie up my Zozey-Posey! Zozey-Posey's bin naughty, he's dot to be tied up so he tan't move!" "And when he's good again, what then?" said Walden "Will you untie him?" Ipsie stared roundly and meditatively.
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