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She shook her head.

"I didn't put it back," she said.

"Well, why did you take it?"

"I liked it. Don't scowl at me like that. Go sit in the corner."'

She embraced herself, pursed her lips, and sat sternly. Then she saw her wig, looked at us, and quickly put it back on her head, adjusting it as comfortably as she could.

"I can choose any one I want." she said. "And I can wear anything I want, even the queen's crown. I just go in there and pick and pick when the door is unlocked."'

"You obviously aren't supposed to go into our rooms and pick and pick," Cinnamon muttered.

"Are you related to Madame Senetsky?" Rose asked softly. She didn't respond. She just stared. "I don't care if you took my clothes. It's all right." Rose added. The woman's eyes shifted to her, to search for truth in Rose's face. Contented, she relaxed.

"I don't have any new clothes anymore. Just the costumes. She doesn't take me shopping."

"Who doesn't?" Ice asked.

"Mommy, Mommy. Mommy, Can we go shopping tomorrow? Can we walk in the big stores? Can we see the animals in the park? Tomorrow, tomorrow, always tomorrow. When will tomorrow come?" She looked up at Madame Senetsky's portrait again.

" 'Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day.' "

We all looked at each other.

"Will you come back tomorrow? Will you take me shopping?" she asked us.

Rose smiled at her and nodded.

"Sure we can. If your mother says it's all right. Is your mother Madame Senetsky?"

"Yes, yes. yes."

"Your name is Gerta, isn't it?" Cinnamon said. "Of course,' she replied.

"Why did she tell me she was dead? And how could Evan have located her obituary?" I whispered. Rose nodded.

"Gerta Berta. I'm Daddy's little Greta Berta. Let's go shopping, and we'll have ice cream on a stick."

"How long have you been living here. Gerta?" Cinnamon asked, She scowled back at her.

"You're a lemon." she said, pointing her finger at her. "And you let go. You're not supposed to let go."

"I know. I got tired. You were too strong."

"Oranges are stronger. Today, oranges are stronger. Maybe not tomorrow. Who's coming back to play tomorrow?"

"We're all coming back. Gerta. We want to learn who you are and how you got here and why you don't come downstairs," Rose said smiling.

"I'm not allowed downstairs. If I go downstairs, I'll be put somewhere ugly again. A place where they touch you all over," she said, running her hands over her breasts and down to her thighs, "and make you cry out and then keep doing it until you promise to laugh and never tell.

"Swear," she said. "swear never to tell. Swear."

She paused and fell into what looked like a deep melancholy.

"So much for worrying that we would be turned in," Cinnamon said.

"This is very sad," I said. "She's, like, trapped up here." She opened her eyes and looked at me.