Cheaper by the Dozen

shorts, rather than knickers, and buttoned down the sides, instead of down the front. That was bad enough, Frank and Bill thought. But the crowning indignity was a little flap, like the tongue of a shoe sewed on sideways, that served as a fly at the front of the trousers,
    "We're all going to be so proud of you today, dears," the aunts told us. "I know you're going to make such a lovely impression on all the guests."
    "Not in these pants," Bill said. "I look sissy and I'm not going to wear them."
    "Why Billy, dear," said Aunt Mabel, his godmother. "You look lovely. You look just like Little Lord Fauntleroy."
    "I don't want to look like him," Bill shouted. "I'm not going to wear these clothes."
    "Of course you're going to wear them, Billy, dear. What do you think your father would say to hear you talk like that?"
    "I think he'd say they were sissy, too," said Bill. "I think he'd laugh at the flap on the front of my pants."
    "Be a good boy, now, dear. You don't want to worry your mother and Grosie and Papa."
    "I do too," said Bill. "I'm sick of not worrying people. I say to heck with them."
    The godmothers froze.
    "Why Billy Gilbreth," said Aunt Mabel. "Where did you learn such an ugly word?"
    We thought for just a moment that we saw a trace of a grin pass over Aunt Mabel's face, and that Aunt Gertrude nudged Aunt Ernestine, but we dismissed the notion as highly improbable and extremely out-of-character.
    Bill finally was prevailed upon to dress in his new outfit. But he was sullen, and so were the rest of us when we received our instructions about the party.
    "First the grownups will have a little chat and visit by themselves, dears. Then we want you children to come in and meet the guests. Remember, some of these people are your mother's oldest friends, and she wants to be proud of you, so do be careful about your clothes. Now run along out into the garden, and we'll call you when it's time."
    Left by ourselves, we walked out on the lawn, where we formed a starched, uncomfortable, and resentful group. We were tired of being on our best behavior, and we wished Daddy were there to stir up some excitement.
    "At home," Martha whispered to the rest of us, "the children visit when the grownups visit. They don't have to go stand in the garden like darned lepers."
    "Why, Martha, dear," Ern mimicked, in shocked tones, "Where did you learn such an ugly word?"
    "At home," said Martha, "they think the children have enough sense to fix their own hair. And they don't have to wear hair ribbons tied so tight that they can't wiggle their eyebrows."
    "Look at the flap in the front of the pants," said Bill, pointing.
    A sprinkler was watering in the lawn nearby. Martha jerked off her hair ribbon, threw it on the ground, walked deliberately to the sprinkler and stood under it.
    Anne and Ernestine were horrified. "Martha," they shouted. "Are you crazy? Come out of there."
    Martha put her head back and laughed. She opened her mouth and caught water in it. She wiggled her now free eyebrows in ecstasy. The starch went out of her clothes, and her hair streamed over her face.
    Frank and Bill joined Martha under the sprinkler. Then Ernestine came in, thus leaving Anne, the oldest, in what for her was a fairly familiar dilemma: whether to cast her lot with us or with the adults. She knew that being the oldest she'd be held responsible, whichever course she took.
    "Come in and get wet," we shouted. "Don't be a traitor. The water's fine."
    Anne sighed, untied her hair ribbon and came in.
    "All right, dears," one of the aunts called from the house. "It's time to meet the guests now."
    We filed, into the living room, where our dripping clothes made puddles on Grosie's Persian rug.
    "I think they feel at home now," Mother said a little ruefully. "You children listen to me. Go upstairs and change four clothes. No nonsense, now. I want you down here, dry, in ten minutes. Do you understand?"
    We understood. That was the kind of talk we understood.

    Everybody liked it better now that we went shouting through the house, playing hide-and-go-seek, and sliding down the banisters. Only during the afternoons, when Grosie was taking a nap, Papa asked us to be quiet.
    'Try to keep it down to a dull roar for just two hours, dears," he told us. "Your grandmother really needs her rest" Our godmothers waited on us hand and foot, and we began to enjoy and even revel in the attention. They were willing to drop anything to amuse us, to play games with us, to help us