“I used to be very fond of dress, but now I am not particularly so;
it is such a bother. We ought to like dress, though, and wear pretty
things, just as the flowers put on beautiful colors. It would be fine,”
she continued, laughing gleefully, “if we were made with feathers and
wings, like the birds. Then we would have no trouble about dress, and
we could fly where we pleased.”
“You would fly to Greece, first, I suppose?”
“No,” she replied, and her laughing face took on a tender, wistful
look, “I should go home first, to see my loved ones.”