"Yes, Mum," Peter answered. He held the end of the cloth one way, then held it up another.

"No, no, not like that. Lay it over the shoulder. Pity about the head. 'Tis the most unsightly head I've yet to see. Oh well, never mind all that. No, no my dear, the cloth goes down the front and the back, not down the sides. Oh my, I do hope it is long enough."

When the other women giggled, Peter turned to glare. He reached down and waited for Etta to hand him a pin. He pinned it one way, then another. He twisted the cloth to the left, then to the right. Still the women giggled and Etta could not be pleased.

Etta tilted her head and rolled her eyes, "Now, bring the cloth down the front. There you've got it. No, no, not like that. The pins must not show. You must curl the cloth. My, but you do not have the knack of it, do you?"

"No, Mum," Peter mumbled, dropping the cloth altogether.

"Do not be in the least discouraged, my good man," Etta said, quickly handing the cloth back. "We have time aplenty. Just turn the cloth under. No, no, not like that. Like this." Etta bent down and lifted the hem of her skirt."

"Mama!" Caroline protested.

"Oh Caroline, I am an old woman. If the man has not seen it before, he's not likely to know what it is. Now Peter, it is done like this." She rolled her skirt with exaggerated movement and pinned it together.