âWeâre playing weâre pioneer girls enduring hardships.â
âIn those dresses?â Mrs. Huff looked amused.
âWeâre pretending they are calico,âexplained Amy. âThey are all we have to dress up in. Nobody wears calico anymore.â
âI see what you mean,â said Mrs. Huff. âYou could hardly be pioneer girls in your motherâs old slacks.â
âCome on, Marla, letâs find the aprons.â Amy pulled two aprons out of a drawer in the kitchen and handed one to Marla, who put it on over her chiffon evening gown, but somehow, now that they had left the bedroom and had spoken to Mrs. Huff, the spell was broken. The game of pretend no longer seemed urgent. âI suppose we should cook something, especially since weâre burning up the chairs,â said Amy.
âSome cornmeal mush or something,â agreed Marla.
âMaybe we could really cook something.â Amy cooked at every opportunity and was particularly good at making French toast.
âYes, letâs cook something and pretend itâscornmeal mush.â Marla was as enthusiastic about cooking as Amy, although her mother did not often permit her to make a mess in the kitchen.
The birdcall record had come to an end, and Mrs. Huff had overheard the conversation. âYou may make some instant pudding if you like,â she said. âThereâs a package in the cupboard with the canned goods. Lemon-flavored, I think, so it will at least be yellow like cornmeal mush.â
âThanks, Mom.â Amy found the package of pudding mix and removed the plastic cover from the electric mixer, explaining, âI know pioneers didnât have one of these, but I love to use the mixer.â
âSo do I,â agreed Marla.
Outside the kitchen door Amy heard the sound of a skate being thrown down on the concrete patio, and then she saw Mitchell, sweaty, red-faced, and cross, come through the back door. He glared at her anddemanded, âHow come you always get to use the electric mixer?â
Amy had not forgotten the dandelion fluff Mitchell had blown away before she could make a wish. âBecause Iâm a girl, thatâs why,â she answered. âI bet youâre cross because your old skateboard wouldnât work. It probably fell apart the minute you started downhill.â
âIt did too work! It worked just fine.â Mitchell was furious. He stood there with his fists clenched and one lock of hair, the one he never could slick down, standing straight up on the crown of his head. His shirttail was hanging out. Mitchell never could remember to tuck in the back of his shirt.
Amy knew that as much as her brother liked motors, his anger was not caused by her getting to use the electric mixer. Something had happened to Mitchell while he was road testing his skateboard.
At that point Mrs. Huff came into thekitchen. âWhy, Mitchell!â she exclaimed, seeing his red face and his scowl. âWhatever is the matter?â
âNothing,â said Mitchell ferociously. âWhy is everybody picking on me?â
âNobody is picking on you,â said Mrs. Huff. âSomething is the matter or you wouldnât be acting this way, but, if you donâtwant to tell us, you donât have to.â
Amy saw anger drain out of Mitchellâs face but hurt remain. Now she understood that something had hurt her brotherâs feelings and without even knowing what it was, she felt indignant. How dare anyone hurt Mitchellâs feelings!
Marla, who was not even a member of the family, looked sympathetic too.
Mitchell kicked the leg of the kitchen table with the toe of his sneaker, and Amy noticed that their mother restrained herself from telling him not to kick the furniture. âAw, a couple of guysââ he said and stopped.
âWhat did they do?â Mrs. Huff asked gently.
âThey wrecked my skateboard and pounded up my skate so it