“Nothing but your petticoat! I don’t believe it. You sound like a peck of dried leaves rubbing together. Let me see. Pull up your skirt.” “Mist’ Rhett, you is bad! Yeah-O, Lawd!” Mammy gave a little shriek and retreated and from a distance of a yard, modestly elevated her dress a few inches and showed the ruffle of a red taffeta petticoat. “You took long enough about wearing it,” grumbled Rhett but his black eyes laughed and danced. “Yassuh, too long.”
