I was everything the ideal dressing-up companion should be,all curves, long neck, manicured fingernails, perfect lips paintedforever red -- just what ... child might imagine as a full-sized plaything."Who are you?" asked the mother. I smiled, thinking that I'm just me,glad to be out of the rain."Mommy wants to know your name," said Alice.I focused back to them. "Barbie." No," sighed Mommy. "What was your name before? Who were you thismorning? Oh, damn. Alice, ask who she was this morning." Who. I’d never have guessed.”“You speak French very well, Peter, but I can’t guess where you’re from. Sometimes you sound English-speaking and at others a bit Spanish,” said Jean-Louis.“Very astute,” I said. “I was in fact born and mainly raised in Argentina, also in the UK, and my family is of British origin. I was at St George’s School in Buenos Aires, very Anglo, so I’m bi-lingual in English and Spanish. You’re very observant.”“We’re from Paris originally but have lived down here for about. "Gray Eagle looked hard at Fighting Hawk before he said, "They will never follow Big Owl. He is too young, even if he has been trained by you. They will need somebody that they trust. And what job are you talking about, are you going to be the Chief now and let me retire to tan hides with old Pony Walk?'Fighting Hawk laughed again, "No father, I am not going to be the Chief. Hopefully I will never have to shoulder that responsibility. I have named Big Cloud as the War Chief, and I am going to. I gave then a wave as I went by.Robbie held up her hand, and I gave her a high five as I jumped on the plate with both feet. She stepped up to the plate and took a practice swing. The pitcher came set, and Robbie stepped back out of the batter's box. The pitcher looked disgusted and relaxed. Robbie smiled at the umpire and walked around and took her place on the other side of the plate. She was going to bat left handed.The pitcher came set again and fired. Robbie swung awkwardly. Strike one..