We'll All Grow Up Someday, Meg, We

In The Midst Of Her Tears Came The Thought, "when People Are In Danger, They Ask God To Save Them;" And, Slipping Down Upon Her Knees, She Said Her Prayer As She Had Never Said It Before, For When Human Help Seems Gone We Turn To Him As Naturally As Lost Children Cry To Their Father, And Feel Sure That He Will Hear And Answer Them.

Salt Is Like Good-humor, And Nearly Every Thing Is Better For A Pinch Of It.

Meg's High-heeled Slippers Were Dreadfully Tight, And Hurt Her, Though She Would Not Own It; And Jo's Nineteen Hair-pins All Seemed Stuck Straight Into Her Head, Which Was Not Exactly Comfortable; But, Dear Me, Let Us Be Elegant Or Die.

When Jo's Conservative Sister Meg Says She Must Turn Up Her Hair Now That She Is A "young Lady," Jo Shouts, "i'm Not! And If Turning Up My Hair Makes Me One, I'll Wear It In Two Tails Till I'm Twenty.... I Hate To Think I've Got To Grow Up, And Be Miss March, And Wear Long Gowns, And Look As Prim As A China Aster! It's Bad Enough To Be A Girl Anyway, When I Like Boys' Games And Work And Manners! I Can't Get Over My Disappointment In Not Being A Boy; And It's Worse Than Ever Now, For I'm Dying To Go And Fight With Papa, And I Can Only Stay At Home And Knit, Like A Poky Old Woman.

The Moment Aunt March Took Her Nap, Or Was Busy With Company, Jo Hurried To This Quiet Place, And Curling Herself Up In The Easy Chair, Devoured Poetry, Romance, History, Travels, And Pictures Like A Regular Bookworm.