Gretchen, far left, whispering to Mildred, near left: “Don’t you think there’s something a bit off about this formation?”
Mildred: “Whatever do you mean? We’re lined up quite nicely and that small boy over there is already running off to let everyone know that we are promenading in a chaste but available manner that will allow the local available bachelors to come a wooing.”
Gretchen: “Okay, I’ll ignore most of what you just said, because I know that you survived that horrible threshing mishap on your family farm, but really, honey, don’t you see what’s going on?”
Mildred, slightly miffed: “Apparently not. Are you belittling me because I choose not to dwell on Papa’s refusal to properly oil his machinery?”
Gretchen: “What? No, I’m not going there at all, and I suggest that you never use that line of dialogue again, because it doesn’t sound right and it invokes imagery that’s best left untouched. What I’m trying to say is that our supposed friends are shirking us a bit and trying to make us look like hillbilly cousins.”
Mildred: “Whatever do you mean by that? Oh, and watch your step, cowpie straight ahead.”
Gretchen: “What I mean is that Delia and Anna were babbling all about how sashes are the most important accessory of the season, yet neither of them is sporting one at the moment. Meanwhile, you and I fell for it and we girdled ourselves with exuberance. You even more so. Is the threshing machine responsible for that as well?
Mildred: “If you must know, there was a sale at Lula Mae’s Accessory Annex and I couldn’t pass it up. If I can afford the extra yardage, why shouldn’t I make a statement?”
Gretchen: “Well, I’ll let that one go as well. I don’t have the strength. Let’s move on to the umbrella. Why did Anna bring one along that only covers the two of them? Are we not worthy of protection from UV rays? A true friend wouldn’t let us get skin cancer on a Sunday afternoon.”
Mildred: “How big of an umbrella did you expect Anna to bring? Really, Gretchen, I think you’re making much ado about nothing. Maybe you’re just jealous of my beautiful sash that pays tribute to the National Rifle Association. Or maybe you believe that hogwash about women plotting against one another just to get their way with a man. I, for one, believe that women have a natural instinct to support one another. I think you might be getting a bit brash with your gossip and accusations.”
Gretchen, reflecting: “Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know why I’m feeling so cantankerous and snippy. Maybe the sun is making me lightheaded. Of course, if someone had bothered to bring a proper umbrella then I wouldn’t be-”
Mildred: “Now, now. Innocent until proven guilty. Let’s just enjoy our stroll and this lovely afternoon.
Delia, far right, whispering to Ann, near right: “I can’t hear what those twits are muttering about. Is the plan working or not?”
Anna: “Operation Petticoat is in full swing. We look so much prettier than Wretched and Mildew over there. It shouldn’t be long before the Beaufort Twins are asking us to the Summer Cotillion instead of them. I think it’s time for phase two.”
Delia: “The part where we convince them that hoop skirts are coming back in style? I’m on it.”
Categories: Past Imperfect