Маленькая принцесса
Becky
"Well,"sheremarked,"Idonotknowwhetheryourmammawouldlikeyoutotellstoriestoservantgirls,butIknowMYmammawouldn’tlikeMEtodoit."
"Mymamma!"saidSara,lookingodd."Idon’tbelieveshewouldmindintheleast.Sheknowsthatstoriesbelongtoeverybody."
"Ithought,"retortedLavinia,insevererecollection,"thatyourmammawasdead.Howcansheknowthings?"
"DoyouthinksheDOESN’Tknowthings?"saidSara,inhersternlittlevoice.Sometimesshehadarathersternlittlevoice.
"Sara’smammaknowseverything,"pipedinLottie."Sodoesmymamma—’ceptSaraismymammaatMissMinchin’s—myotheroneknowseverything.Thestreetsareshining,andtherearefieldsandfieldsoflilies,andeverybodygathersthem.Saratellsmewhensheputsmetobed."
"Youwickedthing,"saidLavinia,turningonSara;"makingfairystoriesaboutheaven."
"TherearemuchmoresplendidstoriesinRevelation,"returnedSara."Justlookandsee!Howdoyouknowminearefairystories?ButIcantellyou"—withafinebitofunheavenlytemper—"youwillneverfindoutwhethertheyareornotifyou’renotkindertopeoplethanyouarenow.Comealong,Lottie."Andshemarchedoutoftheroom,ratherhopingthatshemightseethelittleservantagainsomewhere,butshefoundnotraceofherwhenshegotintothehall.
"Whoisthatlittlegirlwhomakesthefires?"sheaskedMariettethatnight.
Mariettebrokeforthintoaflowofdescription.
