her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits,
Meg's in silvery drab, with a blue velvet snood, lace frills, and
the pearl pin. Jo in maroon, with a stiff, gentlemanly linen
collar, and a white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament.
Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, and
all pronounced the effect "quite easy and fine". Meg's high-heeled
slippers were very tight and hurt her, though she would not own it,
and Jo's nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head,
which was not exactly comfortable, but, dear me, let us be elegant
or die.
"Have a good time, dearies!" said Mrs. March, as the sisters
went daintily down the walk. "Don't eat much supper, and come
away at eleven when I send Hannah for you." As the gate clashed
behind them, a voice cried from a window . . .
"Girls, girls! Have you you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs?"
"Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers," cried Jo,
adding with a laugh as they went on, "I do believe Marmee would ask
that if we were all running away from an earthquake."
"It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a
real lady is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief,"
replied Meg, who had a good many little 'aristocratic tastes' of
her own.
