instead of being jealous of their grand
neighbors the Racketty-Packetty House people began to get all sorts
of fun out of watching them from their own windows. Several of
their windows were broken and some had rags and paper stuffed into
the broken panes, but Meg and Peg and Peter Piper would go and peep
out of one, and Gustibus and Kilmanskeg would peep out of another,
and Ridiklis could scarcely get her dishes washed and her potatoes
pared because she could see the Castle kitchen from her scullery
window. It was _so_ exciting!

[Transcriber's Note: See picture ridiklis_cooking.jpg]

The Castle dolls were grand beyond words, and they were all lords
and ladies. These were their names. There was Lady Gwendolen Vere
de Vere. She was haughty and had dark eyes and hair and carried her
head thrown back and her nose in the air. There was Lady Muriel
Vere de Vere, and she was cold and lovely and indifferent and
looked down the bridge of her delicate nose. And there was Lady
Doris, who had fluffy golden hair and laughed mockingly at
everybody. And there was Lord Hubert and Lord Rupert and Lord
Francis, who were all handsome enough to make you feel as if you
could faint. And there was their mother, the Duchess of Tidyshire;
and of course there were all sorts of maids and footmen and cooks
and scullery maids and even gardeners.

"We never thought of living to see such grand society," said Peter
Piper to his brother and sisters. "It's quite a kind of blessing."

"It's almost like being grand ourselves, just to be able to watch
them," said Meg and Peg and Kilmanskeg, squeezing together and
flattening their noses against the attic windows.

They could see bits of the sumptuous white and gold drawing-room
with the Duchess sitting reading near the fire, her golden glasses
upon her nose, and Lady Gwendolen playing haughtily upon the harp,
and Lady Muriel coldly listening to her. Lady Doris was having her
golden hair dressed by her maid in her bed-room and Lord Hubert was
reading the newspaper with a high-bred air, while Lord Francis was
writing letters to noblemen of his acquaintance, and Lord Rupert
was--in an aristocratic manner--glancing over his love letters from
ladies of title.

[Transcriber's Note: See picture duchess.jpg]

Kilmanskeg and Peter Piper just pinched each other with glee and
squealed with delight.

"Isn't it fun," said Peter Piper. "I say; aren't they awful swells!
But Lord Francis can't kick about in his