“Mr. Whiskers! We have a donkey – our own real donkey,” she said. “Do you think we could name her Eliza?” It was so exciting Maggie could scarcely breathe.
Eliza
And there stood Eliza, brown and shining as a chestnut, with flowers and ribbons streaming from her halter. Prancing and tossing her head, she gloried in the noise and celebration as though remembering her circus days.
~from "Cranberry Summer"
