“You think you’re something, don’t you, all dressed up like a doll! Look at me. My dress is all rags and I don’t care! I’d rather be ragged than a doll baby. Go home and tell them to put you in a glass case. Look at me—look at me—look at me!”
Mary executed a wild dance around the dismayed and bewildered Rilla, flirting her ragged skirt and vociferating “Look at me—look at me” until poor Rilla was dizzy. But as the latter tried to edge away towards the gate Mary pounced on her again.
“You give me that basket,” she ordered with a grimace. Mary was past mistress in the art of “making faces.