The next minute, the three sisters were running about the room,—Mat and Win trying to catch poor Let, and thrust her into the closet, which was to be her prison. Such a stamping, such an outcry, as there was!
"What's all that racket there?" cried papa, at last, from the foot of the stairs that led into his room underneath. "Isn't there noise enough out of doors, without your shaking the house over our heads?"
"Let says she hates the Fourth of July, and the old flag," cried Mat; "and we think she ought to be put in prison as a rebel. We are trying to arrest her."
"Go to bed, every one of you, you rogues!" said papa, "or I will put you all in prison for breaking the peace,—Where's my big whip, mother?"
"I'll tell you where it is, papa," cried little Win.
"Where, then, is it, you little darl—I mean you little rogue?" said papa.
"It is where Cinderella's glass slippers are," screamed Win. "Ask the fairies where that is."
What a scampering and laughing there was then!

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