Free Ramona the Pest by Beverly Cleary Page B

bother to make a fuss.
    â€œSee, Mama!” she cried. “I’m the baddest witch in the world!”
    Mrs. Quimby smiled at Ramona, patted her through the long black dress, and said affectionately, “Sometimes I think you are.”
    â€œCome on, Mama! Let’s go to the Halloween parade.” Ramona had waited so long that she did not see how she could wait another five minutes.
    â€œI told Howie’s mother we would wait for them,” said Mrs. Quimby.
    â€œMama, did you have to?” protested Ramona, running to the front window to watch for Howie. Fortunately, Mrs. Kemp and Willa Jean were already approaching with Howie dressed in a black cat costume lagging along behind holding the end of his tail in one hand. Willa Jean in her stroller was wearing a buck-toothed rabbit mask.
    Ramona could not wait. She burst out the front door yelling through her mask,“Yah! Yah! I’m the baddest witch in the world! Hurry, Howie! I’m going to get you, Howie!”

    Howie walked stolidly along, lugging his tail, so Ramona ran out to meet him. He was not wearing a mask, but instead had pipe cleaners Scotch-taped to his face for whiskers.
    â€œI’m the baddest witch in the world,” Ramona informed him, “and you can be my cat.”
    â€œI don’t want to be your cat,” said Howie. “I don’t want to be a cat at all.”
    â€œWhy not, Howie?” asked Mrs. Quimby, who had joined Ramona and the Kemps. “I think you make a very nice cat.”
    â€œMy tail is busted,” complained Howie. “I don’t want to be a cat with a busted tail.”
    Mrs. Kemp sighed. “Now Howie, if you’ll just hold up the end of your tail nobody will notice.” Then she said to Mrs. Quimby, “I promised him a pirate costume, but his oldersister was sick and while I was taking her temperature Willa Jean crawled into a cupboard and managed to dump a whole quart of salad oil all over the kitchen floor. If you’ve ever had to clean oil off a floor, you know what I went through, and then Howie went into the bathroom and climbed up—yes, dear, I understand you wanted to help—to get a sponge, and he accidentally knelt on a tube of toothpaste that someone had left the top off of—now Howie, I didn’t say you left the top off—and toothpaste squirted all over the bathroom, and there was another mess to clean up. Well, I finally had to drag his sister’s old cat costume out of a drawer, and when he put it on we discovered the wire in the tail was broken, but there wasn’t time to rip it apart and put in a new wire.”
    â€œYou have a handsome set of whiskers,” said Mrs. Quimby, trying to coax Howie to look on the bright side.
    â€œScotch tape itches me,” said Howie.
    Ramona could see that Howie was not going to be any fun at all, even on Halloween. Never mind. She would have fun all by herself. “I’m the baddest witch in the world,” she sang in her muffled voice, skipping with both feet. “I’m the baddest witch in the world.”
    When they were in sight of the playground, Ramona saw that it was already swarming with both the morning and the afternoon kindergartens in their Halloween costumes. Poor Miss Binney, dressed like Mother Goose, now had the responsibility of sixty-eight boys and girls. “Run along, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby, when they had crossed the street. “Howie’s mother and I will go around to the big playground and try to find a seat on a bench before they are all taken.”
    Ramona ran screaming onto the play-ground. “Yah! Yah! I’m the baddest witch in the world!” Nobody paid any attention, because everyone else was screaming, too. The noise was glorious. Ramona yelled and screamed and shrieked and chased anyone who would run. She chased tramps and ghosts and ballerinas. Sometimes other witches in masks exactly like hers chased her, and then