“You just want me to be miserable,” said Ramona, not appreciating her father’s humor and feeling that everyone in her family should be miserable because she was.

“She’s worn out,” said Mrs. Quimby, as if Ramona could not hear. “It’s so hard to wait for Christmas at her age.”

Ramona raised her voice. “I am not worn out! You know sheep don’t wear pajamas.”

“That’s show biz,” said Mr. Quimby.

“Daddy!” Beezus-Mary was shocked. “It’s church!”

“And don’t forget, Ramona,” said Mr. Quimby, “as my grandmother would have said, ‘Those pink bunnies will never be noticed from a trotting horse.’”

Ramona disliked her father’s grandmother even more. Besides, nobody rode trotting horses in church.

The sight of light shining through the stained-glass window of the big stone church diverted Ramona for a moment. The window looked beautiful, as if it were made of jewels.

Mr. Quimby backed the car into a parking space. “Ho-ho-ho!” he said, as he turned off the ignition. “’Tis the season to be jolly.”

Jolly was the last thing Ramona was going to be. Leaving the car, she stooped down inside her car coat to hide as many rabbits as possible. Black branches clawed at the sky, and the wind was raw.

“Stand up straight,” said Ramona’s heartless father.

“I’ll get wet,” said Ramona. “I might catch cold, and then you’d be sorry.”

“Run between the drops,” said Mr. Quimby.

“They’re too close together,” answered Ramona.

“Oh, you two,” said Mrs. Quimby with a tired little laugh, as she backed out of the car and tried to open her umbrella at the same time.

“I will not be in it,” Ramona defied her family once and for all. “They can give the program without me.”

Her father’s answer was a surprise. “Suit yourself,” he said. “You’re not going to spoil our evening.”

Mrs. Quimby gave the seat of Ramona’s pajamas an affectionate pat. “Run along, little lamb, wagging your tail behind you.”

Ramona walked stiff-legged so that her tail would not wag.

At the church door the family parted, the girls going downstairs to the Sunday-school room, which was a confusion of chattering children piling coats and raincoats on chairs. Ramona found a corner behind the Christmas tree, where Santa would pass out candy canes after the program. She sat down on the floor with her car coat pulled over her bent knees.

Through the branches Ramona watched carolers putting on their white robes. Girls were tying tinsel around one another’s heads while Mrs. Russo searched out boys and tied tinsel around their heads, too. “It’s all right for boys to wear tinsel,” Mrs. Russo assured them. Some looked as if they were not certain they believed her.