She had announced that this time the game was
in aid of a cause, and that therefore it must be played with _things_
and not with words only.
"Qu'y met-on, Marie?" repeated Jeanne. "Rappelez-vous bien que c'est
une quete a l'intention des petites filles polonaises internees au
camp de Havelberg!" What, Marie had nothing but her chain necklace,
and that did not end in _on?_ No, but the links of the chain did,
argued Jeanne. "Donne _des chainons!_" she prompted in a whisper. "J'y
mets des chainons," said Marie in Jeanne's thinnest voice, and the
necklace found its way into the basket.
"_Je vous tends mon corbillon: qu'y met-on?_ A vous, Marthe. O,"
exclaimed Jeanne, "tu y mets ton _chignon?_ Eh bien, tu sais, n'est-ce
pas, beta, qu'il faut que tu t'y mettes avec!" and into the basket she
went after a lingering caress from Jeanne.
_"Je vous tends mon corbillon: qu'y met-on?"_ It was the turn now of
Yvonne in her bed. "Comment," said Jeanne, affecting indignation, "si
tu n'etais pas si frileuse tu donnerais ton edredon?" And what about
the little _poupees polonaises internees_, snatched from their beds
and carried off without any bedclothes at all, let alone an eiderdown!
Presently, "J'y mets mon edredon," Yvonne was understood to say, and
"Sage!" approved Jeanne.
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