“On the contrary, godmother; my idea is as large now as a pumpkin⁠—and you know what a pumpkin is, don’t you? So you gave notice that you were going? Does that come next?” asked Miss Jenny with a look of close attention.

“I indited a letter to my master. Yes. To that effect.”

“And what said Tingling-Tossing-Aching-Screaming-Scratching-Smarter?” asked Miss Wren with an unspeakable enjoyment in the utterance of those honourable titles and in the recollection of the pepper.

“He held me to certain months of servitude, which were his lawful term of notice. They expire tomorrow. Upon their expiration⁠—not before⁠—I had meant to set myself right with my Cinderella.”