That evening, after Ramona had gone to bed, she heard her mother and father in their bedroom talking in those low, serious voices that so often meant that they were talking about her. She slipped out of bed and knelt on the floor with her ear against the furnace outlet to see if she could catch their words.

Her father’s voice, coming through the furnace pipes, sounded hollow and far away. “Why did you give in to her?” he was asking. “She had no business saying you would make her a sheep costume without asking first. She has to learn sometime.”

I have learned, thought Ramona indignantly. Her father did not have to talk this way about her behind her back.

“I know,” answered Ramona’s mother in a voice also sounding hollow and far away. “But she’s little, and these things are so important to her. I’ll manage somehow.”

“We don’t want a spoiled brat on our hands,” said Ramona’s father.

“But it’s Christmas,” said Mrs. Quimby, “and Christmas is going to be slim enough this year.”

Comforted by her mother but angry at her father, Ramona climbed back into bed. Spoiled brat! So that was what her father thought of her.

The days that followed were difficult for Ramona, who was now cross with her cross father. He was mean, talking about her behind her back that way.

“Well, what’s eating you?” he finally asked Ramona.

“Nothing.” Ramona scowled. She could not tell him why she was angry without admitting she had eavesdropped.

And then there was Beezus, who went around smiling and looking serene, perhaps because Mrs. Mester had given her an A on her creative-writing composition and read it aloud to the class, but more likely because she was practicing for her part as Mary. Having a sister who tried to act like the Virgin Mary was not easy for a girl who felt as Ramona did.

And the costume. Mrs. Quimby found time to bleach the old bathrobe in the washing machine, but after that nothing happened. The doctor she worked for was so busy because of all the earaches, sore throats, and flu that came with winter weather that she was late coming home every evening.

On top of that, Ramona had to spend two afternoons watching Howie’s grandmother sew on his sheep suit, because arrangements had now been made for Ramona to go to Howie’s house if Mr. Quimby could not be home after school. This week he had to collect unemployment insurance and take a civil-service examination for a job in the post office.

Ramona studied Howie’s sheep suit, which was made out of fluffy white acrylic. The ears were lined with pink, and Mrs. Kemp was going to put a zipper down the front. The costume was beautiful, soft and furry. Ramona longed to rub her cheek against it, hug it, take it to bed with her.