Jeanne Birdsall

Batty held up a finger swathed in Band-Aids. “I just was dying to show you this. I cut myself during crafts.”
Rosalind caught up the finger and kissed it. “Did it hurt terribly?”
“Yes,” said Batty proudly. “I bled all over the clay and the other kids screamed.”
“That sounds exciting.” Rosalind helped Batty into her little blue backpack. “Now let’s go home and get ready for Aunt Claire.”