"And, if I get all these fine things, I'd be as bad as yourself,
Finny darling. No: I'll wear my calico gown, and my sun-bonnet, and
my strong shoes; and you'll see I can get to my work or my play
without half the bother you'd make in your finery."

So Finnikin, still blushing, and crying a little, put her arm round
Merry's neck, and kissed her; and then she ran and took off the
rinses and pins and ribbons and flowers she had found time since
breakfast to put on, and changed her blue silk dress for a neat
gingham and a white apron, and put her hair into a net, instead of
the wreath and curls it had cost her so much trouble to arrange.
And, when she came down stairs again, all the children cried,--

"Only see how pretty Finnikin Fine is in her plain dress! She looks
like a little girl now, instead of a wax doll in a toy-shop window."

"Yes," said Tom Tearcoat; "and a fellow could play with her now in
some comfort. It used to be,--

"'Dear me, you rude boy! you've gone and torn my flounce!' or,
'You've spoilt my bow!' or, 'Dear me, you troublesome creature!
you've made me so nervous!'"

Every one laughed to hear Tom mimic Finnikin, he did it so well;
but, when they saw that the little girl herself was troubled by it,
they left off directly, and began to talk of other things; and Tom
came and tucked a big green apple into her pocket, and a lump of
maple-sugar into her hand.