Today is Sunday. I do love Sundays. Father says: You children have Sundays every day. That's quite true in the holidays, but not at other times. The peasants and their wives and children are all very gay, wearing Tyrolese dresses, just like those I have seen in the theatre. We are wearing our white dresses today, and I have made a great cherry stain upon mine, not on purpose, but because I sat down upon some fallen cherries. So this afternoon when we go out walking I must wear my pink dress. All the better, for I don't care to be dressed exactly the same as Dora. I don't see why everyone should know that we are sisters. Let people think we are cousins. She does not like it either; I wish I knew why. Oswald is coming in a week, and I am awfully pleased. He is older than Dora, but I can always get on with him. Hella writes that she finds it dull without me; so do I.
I wrote to Fraülein Prückl today. She is staying at Achensee. I should like to see her. Every afternoon we bathe and then go for a walk. But today it has been raining all day. Such a bore. I forgot to bring my paint-box and I'm not allowed to read all day. Mother says, if you gobble all your books up now you'll have nothing left to read. That's quite true, but I can't even go and swing.
Afternoon. I must write some more. I've had a frightful row with Dora. She says I've been fiddling with her things. It's all because she's so untidy. As if her things could interest me. Yesterday she left her letter to Erika lying about on the table, and all I read was: “He's as handsome as a Greek god.” I don't know who “he” was for she came in at that moment. It's probably Kral Rudi, with whom she is everlastingly playing tennis. As for handsome—well, there's no accounting for tastes.
It's a good thing I brought my dolls' portmanteau. Mother said: you'll be glad to have it on rainy days. Of course I'm too old to play with dolls, but even though I'm eleven I can make dolls' clothes still. One learns something while one is doing it and when I've finished something I do enjoy it so. Mother cut me out some things and I was tacking them together. Then Dora came into the room and said: “Hello, the child is sewing things for her dolls.” When she sat down beside me I sewed so vigorously that I made a great scratch on her hand, and said: “Oh, I'm so sorry. But you came too close.” I hope she'll know why I really did it. Of course she'll go and sneak to Mother. Let her. What right had she to call me child? She's got a fine red scratch anyhow, and on her right hand where everyone can see.
There's such a lot of fruit here. I eat raspberries and gooseberries all day and Mother says that is why I have no appetite for dinner. But Dr Klein always says fruit is so wholesome; so why should it be unwholesome all at once? Hella always says that when one likes anything awfully much one is always scolded about it until one get perfectly sick of it. Hella often gets in such a temper with her mother, and then her mother says: We make such sacrifices for our children and they reward us with ingratitude. I should like to know what sacrifices they make. I think it's the children who make the sacrifices. When I want to eat gooseberries and am not allowed to, the sacrifices is mine not Mother's.