Footsteps and human voices rumbled from the distance. Under the noise and shouts, a girl of five or six years old came to the houses. A trio of people in clean robes walked in a triangle behind the young miss.
She looked at the girl waiting outside the white house.
"Moya to? Kipa, kui laimin, tsong ramahin trig panagon to?"
The pugnacious girl adjusted the purple bow, blushing, and turned away. The trio in white robes frowned, they took out their big-eyed books, and three black silhouettes appeared behind them. Each with twenty-seven arms on twelve bends.
Moyi clicked her tongue. Little Miss pouted and twirled her finger in the air. The trio of shadows disappeared, and the robed men bowed their heads obediently.
Miss sighed, addressing the girl more affectionately:
"Kipa laren to?"
"Ovo ren to? Odo ren to? Trigo ren to?" miss consistently showed from one to three fingers. "Shamaku! Eh?"
A shabby young man came to the houses, limping on his left leg. When he saw the people, he straightened up and tried to hide his limp. The young man looked contemptuously at the girl, the girl no less contemptuously and pompously turned up her nose.
She pointed to the Red House.
"Yaroi!"
Then she pointed to another one that Purple.
"Qui!"
The ragged young man's face showed anger, but he went to the Purple House.