But Claribelle shook her head furiously, and in her rage tried to jump out of the Wagon. So the Driver, fearing she would break her neck, did as she requested and pulled up his horse, when she immediately alighted. Then she swept away, flouncing her pink silk dress, and with her head in the air. The Driver called later and tried to pacify her, but she would not listen. She only turned her back upon him--which was a very rude thing to do--and persisted in saying that their engagement was at an end. So the Wagoner whipped up his horse and went away sad and sorry. He looked, indeed, so sad that the haughty Claribelle nearly repented of her pride and was just about to call him back. "But he'll return to-morrow," she said to herself, "and he must be taught not to make false remarks about my complexion. Fancy calling me 'yaller!'" The next day he came as she expected. "Do I still look yaller?" Claribelle asked scornfully. "Let bygones be bygones," said he. "Besides, I never called you yaller." "Our engagement is ended," she said. "Claribelle," he said kindly but firmly, "listen to what I say. If you do not tame your proud temper, you will one day bring sorrow upon yourself." Then he left, wounded and displeased. The next day he came again. "I may be going away," he said, "to the other side of the shop, to the opposite counter." "Do I still look yaller?" Claribelle asked, tossing her head. "Aren't you sorry I am going?" he replied. "I haven't time to think of trifles," she said haughtily. "Cruel Claribelle," he said. "I shall not send you a letter, not even a post-card." "Letters are dull," she said coldly, "and post-cards are vulgar." "You will repent of this some day," he replied. And he turned and went away in anger. On the morrow he came once more. "I have come to say good-bye," he said. "Oh!" she replied; but not a word more. "Aren't you sorry?" he asked again. "Yes," she replied, "because the Farthing Doll put her foot on my dress this morning in passing me, and tore it. She is a clumsy thing." "You are trying my patience too far," he said. "Proud Claribelle, beware! Beware, proud Claribelle!" "You confirm me in my resolution," said she. "I will never marry a Toy who gives way to his temper over nothing. Once for all, our engagement is at an end." "I cannot believe that," he said. "Do you really mean it?" "Certainly," she answered. "So be it," he replied. Then he got up from his chair with dignity, made a low bow, mounted his Wagon, and drove away. "I almost wish I had not said that," thought the haughty Beauty uneasily. "I never meant him to go away so soon. If he had stayed I should, perhaps, have altered my mind. I will tell him so when he comes to-morrow."