“No, they don’t!” cried Jo, aside.
“Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap over the schooner, whose decks were piled high with dead and whose lee scuppers ran blood, for the order had been ‘Cutlasses, and die hard!’ ‘Bosun’s mate, take a bight of the flying-jib sheet, and start this villain if he doesn’t confess his sins double quick,’ said the British captain. The Portuguese held his tongue like a brick, and walked the plank, while the jolly tars cheered like mad. But the sly dog dived, came up under the man-of-war, scuttled her, and down she went, with all sail set, ‘To the bottom of the sea, sea, sea’ where-“
“Oh, gracious! What shall I say?” cried Sallie, as Fred ended his rigmarole, in which he had jumbled together pell-mell nautical phrases and facts out of one of his favorite books. “Well, they went to the bottom, and a nice mermaid welcomed them, but was much grieved on finding the box of headless knights, and kindly pickled them in brine, hoping to discover the mystery about them, for being a woman, she was curious. By-and-by a diver came down, and the mermaid said, ‘I’ll give you a box of pearls if you can take it up,’ for she wanted to restore the poor things to life, and couldn’t raise the heavy load herself. So the diver hoisted it up, and was much disappointed on opening it to find no pearls. He left it in a great lonely field, where it was found by a-“
“Little goose girl, who kept a hundred fat geese in the field,” said Amy, when Sallie’s invention gave out. “The little girl was sorry for them, and asked an old woman what she should do to help them. ‘Your geese will tell you, they know everything.’ said the old woman. So she asked what she should use for new heads, since the old ones were lost, and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and screamed-“
“‘Cabbages!’” continued Laurie promptly. “‘Just the thing,’ said the girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden. She put them on, the knights revived at once, thanked her, and went on their way rejoicing, never knowing the difference, for there were so many other heads like them in the world that no one thought anything of it. The knight in whom I’m interested went back to find the pretty face, and learned that the princesses had spun themselves free and all gone and married, but one. He was in a great state of mind at that, and mounting the colt, who stood by him through thick and thin, rushed to the castle to see which was left. Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his affections picking flowers in her garden. ‘Will you give me a rose?’ said he. ‘You must come and get it. I can’t come to you, it isn’t proper,’ said she, as sweet as honey. He tried to climb over the hedge, but it seemed to grow higher and higher. Then he tried to push through, but it grew thicker and thicker, and he was in despair. So he patiently broke twig after twig till he had made a little hole through which he peeped, saying imploringly, ‘Let me in! Let me in!’ But the pretty princess did not seem to understand, for she picked her roses quietly, and left him to fight his way in. Whether he did or not, Frank will tell you.”
“I can’t. I’m not playing, I never do,” said Frank, dismayed at the sentimental predicament out of which he was to rescue the absurd couple. Beth had disappeared behind Jo, and Grace was asleep.
“So the poor knight is to be left sticking in the hedge, is he?” asked Mr. Brooke, still watching the river, and playing with the wild rose in his buttonhole.
“I guess the princess gave him a posy, and opened the gate after a while,” said Laurie, smiling to himself, as he threw acorns at his tutor.
“What a piece of nonsense we have made! With practice we might do something quite clever. Do you know Truth?”
“I hope so,” said Meg soberly.
“The game, I mean?”
“What is it?” said Fred.
“Why, you pile up your hands, choose a number, and draw out in turn, and the person who draws at the number has to answer truly any question put by the rest. It’s great fun.”
“Let’s try it,” said Jo, who liked new experiments.
Miss Kate and Mr. Brooke, Meg, and Ned declined, but Fred, Sallie, Jo, and Laurie piled and drew, and the lot fell to Laurie.
“Who are your heroes?” asked Jo.
“Grandfather and Napoleon.”
“Which lady here do you think prettiest?” said Sallie.
“Margaret.”
“Which do you like best?” from Fred.
“Jo, of course.”
“What silly questions you ask!” And Jo gave a disdainful shrug as the rest laughed at Laurie’s matter-of-fact tone.
“Try again. Truth isn’t a bad game,” said Fred.
“It’s a very good one for you,” retorted Jo in a low voice. Her turn came next.
“What is your greatest fault?” asked Fred, by way of testing in her the virtue he lacked himself.
“A quick temper.”
“What do you most wish for?” said Laurie.
“A pair of boot lacings,” returned Jo, guessing and defeating his purpose.
“Not a true answer. You must say what you really do want most.”
“Genius. Don’t you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?” And she slyly smiled in his disappointed face.
“What virtues do you most admire in a man?” asked Sallie.
“Courage and honesty.”
“Now my turn,” said Fred, as his hand came last.
“Let’s give it to him,” whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded and asked at once:
“Didn’t you cheat at croquet?”
“Well, yes, a little bit.”
“Good! Didn’t you take your story out of The Sea Lion?” said Laurie.
“Rather.”
“Don’t you think the English nation perfect in every respect?” asked Sallie.
“I should be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.”
“He’s a true John Bull. Now, Miss Sallie, you shall have a chance without waiting to draw. I’ll harrrow up your feelings first by asking if you don’t think you are something of a flirt,” said Laurie, as Jo nodded to Fred as a sign that peace was declared.
“You impertinent boy! Of course I’m not,” exclaimed Sallie, with an air that proved the contrary.
“What do you hate most?” asked Fred.
“Spiders and rice pudding.”
“What do you like best?” asked Jo.
“Dancing and French gloves.”
“Well, I think Truth is a very silly play. Let’s have a sensible game of Authors to refresh our minds,” proposed Jo.
Ned, Frank, and the little girls joined in this, and while it went on, the three elders sat apart, talking. Miss Kate took out her sketch again, and Margaret watched her, while Mr. Brooke lay on the grass with a book, which he did not read.
“How beautifully you do it! I wish I could draw,” said Meg, with mingled admiration and regret in her voice.
“Why don’t you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for it,” replied Miss Kate graciously.
“I haven’t time.”
“Your Mamma prefers other accomplishments, I fancy. So did mine, but I proved to her that I had talent by taking a few lessons privately, and then she was quite willing I should go on. Can’t you do the same with your governess?”
“I have none.”