Beverly Cleary 
I L L U S T R AT E D B Y 
	Tracy Dockray 
	viii
	Contents 
	1. Ramona’s Great Day 1 
	2. Show and Tell 37 
	3. Seat Work 63 
	4. The Substitute 83 
	5. Ramona’s Engagement Ring 106 
	6. The Baddest Witch in the World 134 
	7. The Day Things Went Wrong 159 
	8. Kindergarten Dropout 180 
	About the Author
	Other Books by Beverly Cleary
	Credits 
	Cover
	Copyright
	About the Publisher 
	
	1 
	Ramona’s Great Day 
	“ am not a pest,” Ramona Quimby told her 
	Ibig sister Beezus. 
	“Then stop acting like a pest,” said Beezus, 
	whose real name was Beatrice. She was 
	standing by the front window waiting for 
	her friend Mary Jane to walk to school 
	with her. 
	“I’m not acting like a pest. I’m singing 
	and skipping,” said Ramona, who had only 
	1 
	recently learned to skip with both feet. 
	Ramona did not think she was a pest. No 
	matter what others said, she never thought 
	she was a pest.The people who called her a 
	pest were always bigger and so they could be 
	unfair. 
	Ramona went on with her singing and 
	skipping. “This is a great day, a great day, 
	a great day!” she sang, and to Ramona, who 
	was feeling grown up in a dress instead of 
	play clothes, this was a great day, the greatest 
	day of her whole life. No longer would she 
	have to sit on her tricycle watching Beezus 
	and Henry Huggins and the rest of the boys 
	and girls in the neighborhood go off to 
	school. Today she was going to school, too. 
	Today she was going to learn to read and 
	write and do all the things that would help 
	her catch up with Beezus. 
	“Come on, Mama!” urged Ramona, pausing in her singing and skipping. “We don’t 
	2 
	
	want to be late for school.” 
	“Don’t pester, Ramona,” said Mrs. 
	Quimby.“I’ll get you there in plenty of time.” 
	“I’m not pestering,” protested Ramona, 
	who never meant to pester. She was not a 
	slowpoke grown-up. She was a girl who 
	3 
	could not wait. Life was so interesting she 
	had to find out what happened next. 
	Then Mary Jane arrived. “Mrs. Quimby, 
	would it be all right if Beezus and I take 
	Ramona to kindergarten?” she asked. 
	“No!” said Ramona instantly. Mary Jane 
	was one of those girls who always wanted to 
	pretend she was a mother and who always 
	wanted Ramona to be the baby. Nobody 
	was going to catch Ramona being a baby on 
	her first day of school. 
	“Why not?” Mrs. Quimby asked Ramona. 
	“You could walk to school with Beezus and 
	Mary Jane just like a big girl.” 
	“No, I couldn’t.” Ramona was not fooled 
	for an instant. Mary Jane would talk in that 
	silly voice she used when she was being a 
	mother and take her by the hand and help 
	her across the street, and everyone would 
	think she really was a baby. 
	“Please, Ramona,” coaxed Beezus. “It 
	4 
	would be lots of fun to take you in and introduce you to the kindergarten teacher.” 
	“No!” said Ramona, and stamped her 
	foot. Beezus and Mary Jane might have fun, 
	but she wouldn’t. Nobody but a genuine 
	grown-up was going to take her to school. If 
	she had to, she would make a great big noisy 
	fuss, and when Ramona made a great big 
	noisy fuss, she usually got her own way. Great 
	big noisy fusses were often necessary when a 
	girl was the youngest member of the family 
	and the youngest person on her block. 
	“All right, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Don’t make a great big noisy fuss. If that’s 
	the way you feel about it, you don’t have to 
	walk with the girls. I’ll take you.” 
	“Hurry, Mama,” said Ramona happily, as 
	she watched Beezus and Mary Jane go out 
	the door. But when Ramona finally got her 
	mother out of the house, she was disappointed to see one of her mother’s friends, 
	5 
	Mrs. Kemp, approaching with her son 
	Howie and his little sister Willa Jean, who 
	was riding in a stroller. “Hurry, Mama,” 
	urged Ramona, not wanting to wait for the 
	Kemps. Because their mothers were friends, 
	she and Howie were expected to get along 
	with one another. 
	“Hi, there!” Mrs. Kemp called out, so of 
	course Ramona’s mother had to wait. 
	Howie stared at Ramona. He did not like 
	having to get along with her any more than 
	she liked having to get along with him. 
	Ramona stared back. Howie was a solidlooking boy with curly blond hair. (“Such a 
	waste on a boy,” his mother often remarked.) 
	The legs of his new jeans were turned up, and 
	he was wearing a new shirt with long sleeves. 
	He did not look the least bit excited about 
	starting kindergarten. That was the trouble 
	with Howie, Ramona felt. He never got 
	excited. Straight-haired Willa Jean, who was 
	6 
	interesting to Ramona because she was so 
	sloppy, blew out a mouthful of wet zwieback 
	crumbs and laughed at her cleverness. 
	“Today my baby leaves me,” remarked 
	Mrs. Quimby with a smile, as the little group 
	proceeded down Klickitat Street toward 
	Glenwood School. 
	Ramona, who enjoyed being her mother’s 
	baby, did not enjoy being called her mother’s 
	baby, especially in front of Howie. 
	“They grow up quickly,” observed Mrs. 
	Kemp. 
	Ramona could not understand why 
	grown-ups always talked about how quickly 
	children grew up. Ramona thought growing 
	up was the slowest thing there was, slower 
	even than waiting for Christmas to come. 
	She had been waiting years just to get to 
	kindergarten, and the last half hour was the 
	slowest part of all. 
	When the group reached the intersection 
	7 
	nearest Glenwood School, Ramona was 
	pleased to see that Beezus’s friend Henry 
	Huggins was the traffic boy in charge of that 
	particular corner. After Henry had led them 
	across the street, Ramona ran off toward the 
	kindergarten, which was a temporary wooden 
	building with its own playground. Mothers 
	and children were already entering the open 
	door. Some of the children looked frightened, and one girl was crying. 
	“We’re late!” cried Ramona. “Hurry!” 
	Howie was not a boy to be hurried. “I 
	don’t see any tricycles,” he said critically. “I 
	don’t see any dirt to dig in.” 
	Ramona was scornful. “This isn’t nursery 
	school. Tricycles and dirt are for nursery 
	school.” Her own tricycle was hidden in the 
	garage, because it was too babyish for her 
	now that she was going to school. 
	Some big first-grade boys ran past yelling, 
	“Kindergarten babies! Kindergarten babies!” 
	8 
	“We are not babies!” Ramona yelled back, 
	as she led her mother into the kindergarten. 
	Once inside she stayed close to her. Everything was so strange, and there was so much 
	to see: the little tables and chairs; the row of 
	cupboards, each with a different picture 
	on the door; the play stove; and the wooden 
	blocks big enough to stand on. 
	The teacher, who was new to Glenwood 
	School, turned out to be so young and pretty 
	she could not have been a grown-up very 
	long. It was rumored she had never taught 
	school before. “Hello, Ramona. My name is 
	Miss Binney,” she said, speaking each syllable 
	distinctly as she pinned Ramona’s name to 
	her dress. “I am so glad you have come to 
	kindergarten.” Then she took Ramona by 
	the hand and led her to one of the little 
	tables and chairs. “Sit here for the present,” 
	she said with a smile. 
	A present! thought Ramona, and knew at 
	9 
	
	once she was going to like Miss Binney. 
	“Good-by, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Be a good girl.” 
	As she watched her mother walk out the 
	door, Ramona decided school was going to 
	be even better than she had hoped. Nobody 
	had told her she was going to get a present 
	10 
	the very first day. What kind of present 
	could it be, she wondered, trying to remember if Beezus had ever been given a present 
	by her teacher. 
	Ramona listened carefully while Miss 
	Binney showed Howie to a table, but all her 
	teacher said was, “Howie, I would like you 
	to sit here.” Well! thought Ramona. Not 
	everyone is going to get a present so Miss 
	Binney must like me best. Ramona watched 
	and listened as the other boys and girls 
	arrived, but Miss Binney did not tell anyone 
	else he was going to get a present if he sat in 
	a certain chair. Ramona wondered if her 
	present would be wrapped in fancy paper 
	and tied with a ribbon like a birthday present. She hoped so. 
	As Ramona sat waiting for her present she 
	watched the other children being introduced 
	to Miss Binney by their mothers. She found 
	two members of the morning kindergarten 
	11 
	especially interesting. One was a boy named 
	Davy, who was small, thin, and eager. He 
	was the only boy in the class in short pants, 
	and Ramona liked him at once. She liked 
	him so much she decided she would like to 
	kiss him. 
	The other interesting person was a big 
	girl named Susan. Susan’s hair looked like the 
	hair on the girls in the pictures of the oldfashioned stories Beezus liked to read. It was 
	reddish-brown and hung in curls like springs 
	that touched her shoulders and bounced as 
	she walked. Ramona had never seen such 
	curls before. All the curly-haired girls she 
	knew wore their hair short. Ramona put her 
	hand to her own short straight hair, which 
	was an ordinary brown, and longed to touch 
	that bright springy hair. She longed to stretch 
	one of those curls and watch it spring back. 
	Boing! thought Ramona, making a mental 
	noise like a spring on a television cartoon 
	12 
	and wishing for thick, springy boing-boing 
	hair like Susan’s. 
	Howie interrupted Ramona’s admiration 
	of Susan’s hair.“How soon do you think we 
	get to go out and play?” he asked. 
	“Maybe after Miss Binney gives me the 
	present,” Ramona answered. “She said she 
	was going to give me one.” 
	“How come she’s going to give you a present?” Howie wanted to know.“She didn’t say 
	anything about giving me a present.” 
	“Maybe she likes me best,” said Ramona. 
	This news did not make Howie happy. 
	He turned to the next boy, and said, “She’s 
	going to get a present.” 
	Ramona wondered how long she would 
	have to sit there to get the present. If only 
	Miss Binney understood how hard waiting 
	was for her! When the last child had been 
	welcomed and the last tearful mother had 
	departed, Miss Binney gave a little talk about 
	13 
	the rules of the kindergarten and showed 
	the class the door that led to the bathroom. 
	Next she assigned each person a little cupboard. Ramona’s cupboard had a picture 
	of a yellow duck on the door, and Howie’s 
	had a green frog. Miss Binney explained that 
	their hooks in the cloakroom were marked 
	with the same pictures. Then she asked the 
	class to follow her quietly into the cloakroom to find their hooks. 
	Difficult though waiting was for her, 
	Ramona did not budge. Miss Binney had 
	not told her to get up and go into the cloakroom for her present. She had told her to sit 
	for the present, and Ramona was going to 
	sit until she got it. She would sit as if she 
	were glued to the chair. 
	Howie scowled at Ramona as he returned 
	from the cloakroom, and said to another boy, 
	“The teacher is going to give her a present.” 
	Naturally the boy wanted to know why. 
	14 
	“I don’t know,” admitted Ramona.“She told 
	me that if I sat here I would get a present. I 
	guess she likes me best.” 
	By the time Miss Binney returned from 
	the cloakroom, word had spread around the 
	classroom that Ramona was going to get a 
	present. 
	Next Miss Binney taught the class the 
	words of a puzzling song about “the dawnzer 
	lee light,” which Ramona did not understand because she did not know what a 
	dawnzer was. “Oh, say, can you see by the 
	dawnzer lee light,” sang Miss Binney, and 
	Ramona decided that a dawnzer was another 
	word for a lamp. 
	When Miss Binney had gone over the 
	song several times, she asked the class to stand 
	and sing it with her. Ramona did not budge. 
	Neither did Howie and some of the others, 
	and Ramona knew they were hoping for a 
	present, too. Copycats, she thought. 
	15 
	“Stand up straight like good Americans,” 
	said Miss Binney so firmly that Howie and 
	the others reluctantly stood up. 
	Ramona decided she would have to be a 
	good American sitting down. 
	“Ramona,” said Miss Binney, “aren’t you 
	going to stand with the rest of us?” 
	Ramona thought quickly. Maybe the 
	question was some kind of test, like a test in 
	a fairy tale. Maybe Miss Binney was testing 
	her to see if she could get her out of her 
	seat. If she failed the test, she would not get 
	the present. 
	“I can’t,” said Ramona. 
	Miss Binney looked puzzled, but she did 
	not insist that Ramona stand while she led 
	the class through the dawnzer song. Ramona 
	sang along with the others and hoped that 
	her present came next, but when the song 
	ended, Miss Binney made no mention of 
	the present. Instead she picked up a book. 
	16 
	Ramona decided that at last the time had 
	come to learn to read. 
	Miss Binney stood in front of her class 
	and began to read aloud from Mike Mulligan 
	and His Steam Shovel, a book that was a 
	favorite of Ramona’s because, unlike so 
	many books for her age, it was neither quiet 
	and sleepy nor sweet and pretty. Ramona, 
	pretending she was glued to her chair, 
	enjoyed hearing the story again and listened 
	quietly with the rest of the kindergarten to 
	the story of Mike Mulligan’s old-fashioned 
	steam shovel, which proved its worth by 
	digging the basement for the new town hall 
	of Poppersville in a single day beginning at 
	dawn and ending as the sun went down. 
	As Ramona listened a question came into 
	her mind, a question that had often puzzled 
	her about the books that were read to her. 
	Somehow books always left out one of the 
	most important things anyone would want 
	17 
	to know. Now that Ramona was in school, 
	and school was a place for learning, perhaps 
	Miss Binney could answer the question. 
	Ramona waited quietly until her teacher 
	had finished the story, and then she raised 
	her hand the way Miss Binney had told the 
	class they should raise their hands when they 
	wanted to speak in school. 
	Joey, who did not remember to raise his 
	hand, spoke out. “That’s a good book.” 
	Miss Binney smiled at Ramona, and said, 
	“I like the way Ramona remembers to raise 
	her hand when she has something to say. 
	Yes, Ramona?” 
	Ramona’s hopes soared. Her teacher had 
	smiled at her.“Miss Binney, I want to know— 
	how did Mike Mulligan go to the bathroom 
	when he was digging the basement of the 
	town hall?” 
	Miss Binney’s smile seemed to last longer 
	than smiles usually last. Ramona glanced 
	18 
	uneasily around and saw that others were 
	waiting with interest for the answer. Everybody wanted to know how Mike Mulligan 
	went to the bathroom. 
	“Well—” said Miss Binney at last.“I don’t 
	really know, Ramona. The book doesn’t 
	tell us.” 
	“I always wanted to know, too,” said 
	Howie, without raising his hand, and others 
	murmured in agreement.The whole class, it 
	seemed, had been wondering how Mike 
	Mulligan went to the bathroom. 
	“Maybe he stopped the steam shovel and 
	climbed out of the hole he was digging and 
	went to a service station,” suggested a boy 
	named Eric. 
	“He couldn’t. The book says he had to 
	work as fast as he could all day,” Howie 
	pointed out. “It doesn’t say he stopped.” 
	Miss Binney faced the twenty-nine earnest 
	members of the kindergarten, all of whom 
	19 
	wanted to know how Mike Mulligan went 
	to the bathroom. 
	“Boys and girls,” she began, and spoke in 
	her clear, distinct way. “The reason the book 
	does not tell us how Mike Mulligan went to 
	the bathroom is that it is not an important 
	part of the story. The story is about digging 
	the basement of the town hall, and that is 
	what the book tells us.” 
	Miss Binney spoke as if this explanation 
	ended the matter, but the kindergarten was 
	not convinced. Ramona knew and the rest 
	of the class knew that knowing how to go 
	to the bathroom was important.They were 
	surprised that Miss Binney did not understand, because she had showed them the bathroom the very first thing. Ramona could see 
	there were some things she was not going to 
	learn in school, and along with the rest of 
	the class she stared reproachfully at Miss 
	Binney. 
	20 
	The teacher looked embarrassed, as if she 
	knew she had disappointed her kindergarten. 
	She recovered quickly, closed the book, and 
	told the class that if they would walk quietly 
	out to the playground she would teach them 
	a game called Gray Duck. 
	Ramona did not budge. She watched the 
	rest of the class leave the room and admired 
	Susan’s boing-boing curls as they bounced 
	about her shoulders, but she did not stir from 
	her seat. Only Miss Binney could unstick the 
	imaginary glue that held her there. 
	“Don’t you want to learn to play Gray 
	Duck, Ramona?” Miss Binney asked. 
	Ramona nodded. “Yes, but I can’t.” 
	“Why not?” asked Miss Binney. 
	“I can’t leave my seat,” said Ramona. 
	When Miss Binney looked blank, she 
	added, “Because of the present.” 
	“What present?” Miss Binney seemed so 
	genuinely puzzled that Ramona became 
	21 
	uneasy. The teacher sat down in the little 
	chair next to Ramona’s, and said, “Tell me 
	why you can’t play Gray Duck.” 
	Ramona squirmed, worn out with waiting. She had an uneasy feeling that something had gone wrong someplace.“I want to 
	play Gray Duck, but you—” she stopped, 
	feeling that she might be about to say the 
	wrong thing. 
	“But I what?” asked Miss Binney. 
	“Well . . . uh . . . you said if I sat here I 
	would get a present,” said Ramona at last,“but 
	you didn’t say how long I had to sit here.” 
	If Miss Binney had looked puzzled 
	before, she now looked baffled. “Ramona, I 
	don’t understand—” she began. 
	“Yes, you did,” said Ramona, nodding. 
	“You told me to sit here for the present, and 
	I have been sitting here ever since school 
	started and you haven’t given me a present.” 
	Miss Binney’s face turned red and she 
	22 
	looked so embarrassed that Ramona felt 
	completely confused. Teachers were not 
	supposed to look that way. 
	Miss Binney spoke gently. “Ramona, I’m 
	afraid we’ve had a misunderstanding.” 
	Ramona was blunt. “You mean I don’t 
	get a present?” 
	“I’m afraid not,” admitted Miss Binney. 
	“You see ‘for the present’ means for now. I 
	meant that I wanted you to sit here for now, 
	because later I may have the children sit at 
	different desks.” 
	“Oh.” Ramona was so disappointed she 
	had nothing to say.Words were so puzzling. 
	Present should mean a present just as attack 
	should mean to stick tacks in people. 
	By now all the children were crowding 
	around the door to see what had happened 
	to their teacher. “I’m so sorry,” said Miss 
	Binney. “It’s all my fault. I should have used 
	different words.” 
	23 
	“That’s all right,” said Ramona, ashamed 
	to have the class see that she was not going 
	to get a present after all. 
	“All right, class,” said Miss Binney briskly. 
	“Let’s go outside and play Gray Duck.You, 
	too, Ramona.” 
	Gray Duck turned out to be an easy game, 
	and Ramona’s spirits recovered quickly 
	from her disappointment.The class formed a 
	circle, and the person who was “it” tagged 
	someone who had to chase him around the 
	circle. If “it” was caught before he got back 
	to the empty space in the circle, he had to 
	go into the center of the circle, which was 
	called the mush pot, and the person who 
	caught him became “it.” 
	Ramona tried to stand next to the girl 
	with the springy curls, but instead she found 
	herself beside Howie. “I thought you were 
	going to get a present,” gloated Howie. 
	Ramona merely scowled and made a face 
	24 
	at Howie, who was “it,” but quickly landed 
	in the mush pot because his new jeans were 
	so stiff they slowed him down. “Look at 
	Howie in the mush pot!” crowed Ramona. 
	Howie looked as if he were about to cry, 
	which Ramona thought was silly of him. 
	Only a baby would cry in the mush pot. Me, 
	me, somebody tag me, thought Ramona, 
	jumping up and down. She longed for a turn 
	to run around the circle. Susan was jumping 
	up and down, too, and her curls bobbed 
	enticingly. 
	At last Ramona felt a tap on her shoulder. 
	Her turn had come to run around the circle! 
	She ran as fast as she could to catch up with 
	the sneakers pounding on the asphalt ahead 
	of her. The boing-boing curls were on the 
	other side of the circle. Ramona was coming 
	closer to them. She put out her hand. She 
	took hold of a curl, a thick, springy curl— 
	“Yow!” screamed the owner of the curls. 
	25 
	
	Startled, Ramona let go. She was so surprised by the scream that she forgot to watch 
	Susan’s curl spring back. 
	Susan clutched her curls with one hand 
	and pointed at Ramona with the other. 
	“That girl pulled my hair! That girl pulled 
	my hair! Ow-ow-ow.” Ramona felt that 
	Susan did not have to be so touchy. She had 
	26
	26 
	not meant to hurt her. She only wanted to 
	touch that beautiful, springy hair that was so 
	different from her own straight brown hair. 
	“Ow-ow-ow!” shrieked Susan, the center 
	of everyone’s attention. 
	“Baby,” said Ramona. 
	“Ramona,” said Miss Binney, “in our 
	kindergarten we do not pull hair.” 
	“Susan doesn’t have to be such a baby,” 
	said Ramona. 
	“You may go sit on the bench outside the 
	door while the rest of us play our game,” 
	Miss Binney told Ramona. 
	Ramona did not want to sit on any bench. 
	She wanted to play Gray Duck with the rest 
	of the class.“No,” said Ramona, preparing to 
	make a great big noisy fuss. “I won’t.” 
	Susan stopped shrieking. A terrible silence 
	fell over the playground. Everyone stared at 
	Ramona in such a way that she almost felt 
	as if she were beginning to shrink. Nothing 
	27 
	like this had ever happened to her before. 
	“Ramona,” said Miss Binney quietly.“Go 
	sit on the bench.” 
	Without another word Ramona walked 
	across the playground and sat down on the 
	bench by the door of the kindergarten.The 
	game of Gray Duck continued without her, 
	but the class had not forgotten her. Howie 
	grinned in her direction. Susan continued to 
	look injured. Some laughed and pointed at 
	Ramona. Others, particularly Davy, looked 
	worried, as if they had not known such a 
	terrible punishment could be given in 
	kindergarten. 
	Ramona swung her feet and pretended 
	to be watching some workmen who were 
	building a new market across the street. In 
	spite of the misunderstanding about the 
	present, she wanted so much to be loved by 
	her pretty new teacher. Tears came into 
	Ramona’s eyes, but she would not cry. 
	28 
	Nobody was going to call Ramona Quimby 
	a crybaby. Never. 
	Next door to the kindergarten two little 
	girls, about two and four years old, peered 
	solemnly through the fence at Ramona. 
	“See that girl,” said the older girl to her little 
	sister. “She’s sitting there because she’s been 
	bad.” The two-year-old looked awed to be 
	in the presence of such wickedness. Ramona 
	stared at the ground, she felt so ashamed. 
	When the game ended, the class filed past 
	Ramona into the kindergarten. “You may 
	come in now, Ramona,” said Miss Binney 
	pleasantly. 
	Ramona slid off the bench and followed 
	the others. Even though she was not loved, 
	she was forgiven, and that helped. She hoped 
	that learning to read and write came next. 
	Inside Miss Binney announced that the 
	time had come to rest.This news was another 
	disappointment to Ramona, who felt that 
	29 
	anyone who went to kindergarten was too 
	old to rest. Miss Binney gave each child a 
	mat on which there was a picture that 
	matched the picture on his cupboard door 
	and told him where to spread his mat on the 
	floor. When all twenty-nine children were 
	lying down they did not rest.They popped 
	up to see what others were doing. They 
	wiggled. They whispered. They coughed. 
	They asked,“How much longer do we have 
	to rest?” 
	“Sh-h,” said Miss Binney in a soft, quiet, 
	sleepy voice. “The person who rests most 
	quietly will get to be the wake-up fairy.” 
	“What’s the wake-up fairy?” demanded 
	Howie, bobbing up. 
	“Sh-h,” whispered Miss Binney. “The 
	wake-up fairy tiptoes around and wakes up 
	the class with a magic wand.Whoever is the 
	fairy wakes up the quietest resters first.” 
	Ramona made up her mind that she 
	30 
	
	would get to be the wake-up fairy, and then 
	Miss Binney would know she was not so 
	bad after all. She lay flat on her back with 
	her hands tight to her sides. The mat was 
	thin and the floor was hard, but Ramona did 
	not wiggle. She was sure she must be the 
	best rester in the class, because she could hear 
	others squirming around on their mats. Just 
	to show Miss Binney she really and truly was 
	resting she gave one little snore, not a loud 
	snore but a delicate snore, to prove what a 
	good rester she was. 
	A scatter of giggles rose from the class, 
	followed by several snores, less delicate than 
	31 
	Ramona’s. They led to more and more, less 
	and less delicate snores until everyone was 
	snoring except the few who did not know 
	how to snore.They were giggling. 
	Miss Binney clapped her hands and spoke 
	in a voice that was no longer soft, quiet, and 
	sleepy. “All right, boys and girls!” she said. 
	“This is enough! We do not snore or giggle 
	during rest time.” 
	“Ramona started it,” said Howie. 
	Ramona sat up and scowled at Howie. 
	“Tattletale,” she said in a voice of scorn. Across 
	Howie she saw that Susan was lying quietly 
	with her beautiful curls spread out on her 
	mat and her eyes screwed tight shut. 
	“Well, you did,” said Howie. 
	“Children!” Miss Binney’s voice was sharp. 
	“We must rest so that we will not be tired 
	when our mothers come to take us home.” 
	“Is your mother coming to take you 
	home?” Howie asked Miss Binney. Ramona 
	32 
	had been wondering the same thing. 
	“That’s enough, Howie!” Miss Binney 
	spoke the way mothers sometimes speak just 
	before dinnertime. In a moment she was 
	back to her soft, sleepy voice.“I like the way 
	Susan is resting so quietly,” she said. “Susan, 
	you may be the wake-up fairy and tap the 
	boys and girls with this wand to wake 
	them up.” 
	The magic wand turned out to be nothing but an everyday yardstick. Ramona lay 
	quietly, but her efforts were of no use. Susan 
	with her curls bouncing about her shoulders 
	tapped Ramona last. It’s not fair, Ramona 
	thought. She was not the worst rester in the 
	class. Howie was much worse. 
	The rest of the morning went quickly. 
	The class was allowed to explore the paints 
	and the toys, and those who wanted to were 
	allowed to draw with their new crayons. 
	They did not, however, learn to read and 
	33 
	write, but Ramona cheered up when Miss 
	Binney explained that anyone who had anything to share with the class could bring it 
	to school the next day for Show and Tell. 
	Ramona was glad when the bell finally rang 
	and she saw her mother waiting for her outside the fence. Mrs. Kemp and Willa Jean 
	were waiting for Howie, too, and the five 
	started home together. 
	Right away Howie said, “Ramona got 
	benched, and she’s the worst rester in the 
	class.” 
	After all that had happened that morning, 
	Ramona found this too much. “Why don’t 
	you shut up?” she yelled at Howie just 
	before she hit him. 
	Mrs. Quimby seized Ramona by the hand 
	and dragged her away from Howie. “Now 
	Ramona,” she said, and her voice was firm, 
	“this is no way to behave on your first day 
	of school.” 
	34 
	“Poor little girl,” said Mrs. Kemp. “She’s 
	worn out.” 
	Nothing infuriated Ramona more than 
	having a grown-up say, as if she could not 
	hear, that she was worn out. “I’m not worn 
	out!” she shrieked. 
	“She got plenty of rest while she was 
	benched,” said Howie. 
	“Now Howie, you stay out of this,” said 
	Mrs. Kemp. Then to change the subject, 
	she asked her son, “How do you like 
	kindergarten?” 
	“Oh—I guess it’s all right,” said Howie 
	without enthusiasm. “They don’t have any 
	dirt to dig in or tricycles to ride.” 
	“And what about you, Ramona?” asked 
	Mrs. Quimby. “Did you like kindergarten?” 
	Ramona considered. Kindergarten had 
	not turned out as she had expected. Still, 
	even though she had not been given a present and Miss Binney did not love her, she 
	35 
	had liked being with boys and girls her own 
	age. She liked singing the song about the 
	dawnzer and having her own little cupboard. “I didn’t like it as much as I thought 
	I would,” she answered honestly,“but maybe 
	it will get better when we have Show and 
	Tell.” 
	36 
	2 
	Show and Tell 
	Ramona looked forward to many 
	things—her first loose tooth, riding a 
	bicycle instead of a tricycle, wearing lipstick 
	like her mother—but most of all she looked 
	forward to Show and Tell. For years Ramona 
	had watched her sister Beezus leave for 
	school with a doll, a book, or a pretty leaf to 
	share with her class. She had watched Beezus’s 
	friend Henry Huggins carry mysterious, 
	37 
	lumpy packages past her house on his way 
	to school. She had listened to Beezus talk 
	about the interesting things her class brought 
	to school—turtles, ballpoint pens that wrote 
	in three different colors, a live clam in a jar 
	of sand and seawater. 
	Now at last the time had come for 
	Ramona to show and tell. “What are you 
	going to take to show your class?” she asked 
	Beezus, hoping for an idea for herself. 
	“Nothing,” said Beezus, and went on to 
	explain. “Along about the third grade you 
	begin to outgrow Show and Tell. By the fifth 
	grade it’s all right to take something really 
	unusual like somebody’s pickled appendix 
	or something to do with social studies. An 
	old piece of fur when you study fur traders 
	would be all right. Or if something really 
	exciting happened like your house burning 
	down, it would be all right to tell about that. 
	But in the fifth grade you don’t take an old 
	38 
	doll or a toy fire engine to school. And you 
	don’t call it Show and Tell by then.You just 
	let the teacher know you have something 
	interesting.” 
	Ramona was not discouraged. She was 
	used to Beezus’s growing out of things as she 
	grew into them. She rummaged around 
	in her toy box and finally dragged out her 
	favorite doll, the doll with the hair that 
	could really be washed. “I’m going to take 
	Chevrolet,” she told Beezus. 
	“Nobody names a doll Chevrolet,” said 
	Beezus, whose dolls had names like Sandra 
	or Patty. 
	“I do,” Ramona answered. “I think 
	Chevrolet is the most beautiful name in the 
	world.” 
	“Well, she’s a horrid-looking doll,” said 
	Beezus.“Her hair is green. Besides, you don’t 
	play with her.” 
	“I wash her hair,” said Ramona loyally, 
	39 
	“and the only reason what’s left of her hair 
	looks sort of green is that I tried to blue it 
	like Howie’s grandmother, who has her hair 
	blued at the beauty shop. Mama said putting 
	bluing on yellow hair turned it green. 
	Anyway, I think it’s pretty.” 
	When the time finally came to start to 
	school, Ramona was disappointed once more 
	to see Mrs. Kemp approaching with Howie 
	and little Willa Jean. “Mama, come on,” 
	begged Ramona, dragging at her mother’s 
	hand, but her mother waited until the Kemps 
	had caught up. Willa Jean was even sloppier 
	this morning. There were crumbs on the 
	front of her sweater, and she was drinking 
	apple juice out of a nursing bottle.Willa Jean 
	dropped the bottle when she saw Chevrolet 
	and sat there with apple juice dribbling 
	down her chin while she stared at Ramona’s 
	doll. 
	“Ramona is taking her doll to school for 
	40 
	Show and Tell,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	Howie looked worried.“I don’t have anything for Show and Tell,” he said. 
	“That’s all right, Howie,” said Mrs. 
	Quimby. “Miss Binney doesn’t expect you 
	to take something every day.” 
	“I want to take something,” said Howie. 
	“My goodness, Howie,” said his mother. 
	“What if twenty-nine children each brought 
	something. Miss Binney wouldn’t have time 
	to teach you anything.” 
	“She’s taking something.” Howie pointed 
	to Ramona. 
	There was something familiar about the 
	way Howie was behaving. Ramona pulled at 
	her mother’s hand. “Come on, Mama.” 
	“Ramona, I think it would be nice if you 
	ran in the house and found something to 
	lend Howie to take to school,” said Mrs. 
	Quimby. 
	Ramona did not think this idea was nice 
	41 
	at all, but she recognized that lending 
	Howie something might be faster than 
	arguing with him. She ran into the house 
	where she snatched up the first thing she 
	saw—a stuffed rabbit that had already been 
	given hard wear before the cat had adopted 
	it as a sort of practice gopher. The cat liked 
	to chew the rabbit’s tail, carry it around in 
	his mouth, or lie down and kick it with his 
	hind feet. 
	When Ramona thrust the rabbit into 
	Howie’s hand, Mrs. Kemp said, “Say thank 
	you, Howie.” 
	“It’s just an old beat-up bunny,” said 
	Howie scornfully. When his mother wasn’t 
	looking, he handed the rabbit to Willa Jean, 
	who dropped her apple juice, seized the 
	rabbit, and began to chew its tail. 
	Just like our cat, thought Ramona, as the 
	group proceeded toward school. 
	“Don’t forget Ramona’s bunny,” said Mrs. 
	42 
	Kemp, when they reached the kindergarten 
	playground. 
	“I don’t want her old bunny,” said Howie. 
	“Now Howie,” said his mother. “Ramona 
	was kind enough to share her bunny so 
	you be nice.” To Mrs. Quimby she said, as if 
	Howie could not hear, “Howie needs to 
	learn manners.” 
	Share! Ramona had learned about sharing in nursery school, where she either had 
	to share something of her own that she did 
	not want to share or she had to share something that belonged to someone else that 
	she did not want to share either. “That’s all 
	right, Howie,” she said. “You don’t have to 
	share my rabbit.” 
	Howie looked grateful, but his mother 
	thrust the rabbit into his hands anyway. 
	At the beginning, on that second day of 
	kindergarten, Ramona felt shy because she 
	was not sure what Miss Binney would think 
	43 
	about a girl who had been made to sit on 
	the bench. But Miss Binney smiled, and said, 
	“Good morning, Ramona,” and seemed to 
	have forgotten all about the day before. 
	Ramona sat Chevrolet in her little cupboard 
	with the duck on the door and waited for 
	Show and Tell. 
	“Did anyone bring something to show 
	the class?” asked Miss Binney, after the class 
	had sung the dawnzer song. 
	Ramona remembered to raise her hand, 
	and Miss Binney invited her to come to the 
	front of the room to show the class what she 
	had brought. Ramona took Chevrolet from 
	her cupboard and stood beside Miss Binney’s 
	desk, where she discovered she did not know 
	what to say. She looked to Miss Binney for 
	help. 
	Miss Binney smiled encouragingly. “Is 
	there something you would like to tell us 
	about your doll?” 
	44 
	
	“I can really wash her hair,” said Ramona. 
	“It’s sort of green because I gave her a blue 
	rinse.” 
	“And what do you wash it with?” asked 
	Miss Binney. 
	“Lots of things,” said Ramona, beginning 
	to enjoy speaking in front of the class.“Soap, 
	shampoo, detergent, bubble bath. I tried 
	Dutch Cleanser once, but it didn’t work.” 
	“What is your doll’s name?” asked Miss 
	Binney. 
	“Chevrolet,” answered Ramona.“I named 
	her after my aunt’s car.” 
	The class began to laugh, especially the 
	boys. Ramona felt confused, standing there 
	in front of twenty-eight boys and girls who 
	were all laughing at her. “Well, I did!” she 
	said angrily, almost tearfully. Chevrolet was a 
	beautiful name, and there was no reason to 
	laugh. 
	Miss Binney ignored the giggles and 
	snickers. “I think Chevrolet is a lovely 
	name,” she said. Then she repeated, “Chevro-let.” The way Miss Binney pronounced 
	the word made it sound like music. “Say it, 
	class.” 
	“Chev-ro-let,” said the class obediently, 
	and this time no one laughed. Ramona’s heart 
	46 
	was filled with love for her teacher. Miss 
	Binney was not like most grown-ups. Miss 
	Binney understood. 
	The teacher smiled at Ramona. “Thank 
	you, Ramona, for sharing Chevrolet with 
	us.” 
	After a girl had showed her doll that talked 
	when she pulled a cord in its back and a boy 
	had told the class about his family’s new 
	refrigerator, Miss Binney asked, “Does anyone else have anything to show us or tell us 
	about?” 
	“That boy brought something,” said Susan 
	of the springy curls, pointing at Howie. 
	Boing, thought Ramona, as she always did 
	when those curls caught her attention. She 
	was beginning to see that Susan was a girl 
	who liked to take charge. 
	“Howie, did you bring something?” asked 
	Miss Binney. 
	Howie looked embarrassed. 
	47 
	“Come on, Howie,” encouraged Miss 
	Binney. “Show us what you brought.” 
	Reluctantly Howie went to his cupboard 
	and brought out the shabby blue rabbit with 
	the damp tail. He carried it to Miss Binney’s 
	desk, faced the class, and said in a flat voice, 
	“It’s just an old bunny.” The class showed 
	very little interest. 
	“Is there something you would like to tell 
	us about your bunny?” asked Miss Binney. 
	“No,” said Howie. “I just brought it 
	because my mother made me.” 
	“I can tell you something about your 
	bunny,” said Miss Binney. “It has had lots of 
	love.That’s why it’s so worn.” 
	Ramona was fascinated. In her imagination she could see the cat lying on the carpet 
	with the rabbit gripped in his teeth while he 
	battered it with his hind feet. The look that 
	Howie gave the rabbit was somehow lacking 
	in love. Ramona waited for him to say that it 
	48 
	wasn’t his rabbit, but he did not. He just 
	stood there. 
	Miss Binney, seeing that Howie could not 
	be encouraged to speak in front of the class, 
	opened a drawer in her desk, and as she 
	reached inside she said, “I have a present for 
	your bunny.” She pulled out a red ribbon, 
	took the rabbit from Howie, and tied the 
	ribbon around its neck in a bright bow. 
	“There you are, Howie,” she said. “A nice 
	new bow for your bunny.” 
	Howie mumbled, “Thank you,” and as 
	quickly as possible hid the rabbit in his 
	cupboard. 
	Ramona was delighted. She felt that the 
	red ribbon Miss Binney had given her old 
	rabbit took the place of the present she had 
	not been given the day before. All morning 
	she thought about the things she could do 
	with that red ribbon. She could use it to tie 
	up what was left of Chevrolet’s hair. She 
	49 
	could trade it to Beezus for something valuable, an empty perfume bottle or some colored paper that wasn’t scribbled on. During 
	rest time Ramona had the best idea of all. 
	She would save the ribbon until she got a 
	two-wheeled bicycle.Then she would weave 
	it in and out of the spokes and ride so fast 
	the ribbon would be a red blur as the wheels 
	went around.Yes.That was exactly what she 
	would do with her red ribbon. 
	When the noon bell rang, Mrs. Quimby, 
	Mrs. Kemp, and little Willa Jean were waiting by the fence.“Howie,” Mrs. Kemp called 
	out, “don’t forget Ramona’s bunny.” 
	“Oh, that old thing,” muttered Howie, but 
	he returned to his cupboard while Ramona 
	walked along behind the mothers. 
	“Howie needs to learn responsibility,” Mrs. 
	Kemp was saying. 
	When Howie had caught up, he untied 
	the ribbon and shoved the rabbit at Ramona. 
	“Here.Take your old rabbit,” he said. 
	50 
	Ramona took it and said, “Give me my 
	ribbon.” 
	“It’s not your ribbon,” said Howie. “It’s 
	my ribbon.” 
	The two mothers were so busy talking 
	about their children needing to learn 
	responsibility they paid no attention to the 
	argument. 
	“It is not!” said Ramona.“It’s my ribbon!” 
	“Miss Binney gave it to me.” Howie was 
	so calm and so sure that he was right that 
	Ramona was infuriated. She grabbed for the 
	ribbon, but Howie held it away from her. 
	“Miss Binney tied it around my rabbit’s 
	neck so it’s my ribbon!” she said, her voice 
	rising. 
	“No,” said Howie flatly and calmly. 
	“Ribbons aren’t for boys,” Ramona 
	reminded him. “Now give it to me!” 
	“It isn’t yours.” Howie showed no excitement, only stubbornness. 
	Howie’s behavior drove Ramona wild. She 
	51 
	
	wanted him to get excited. She wanted him 
	to get angry. “It is too mine!” she shrieked, 
	and at last the mothers turned around. 
	“What’s going on?” asked Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Howie has my ribbon and won’t give it 
	back,” said Ramona, so angry she was near 
	tears. 
	“It isn’t hers,” said Howie. 
	The two mothers exchanged glances. 
	52 
	“Howie, where did you get that ribbon?” 
	asked Mrs. Kemp. 
	“Miss Binney gave it to me,” said Howie. 
	“She gave it to me, ” corrected Ramona, as 
	she fought back tears. “She tied it on my 
	rabbit’s neck, so it’s my ribbon.” Anybody 
	should be able to understand that. Anybody 
	who was not stupid. 
	“Now Howie,” said his mother. “What 
	does a big boy like you want with a ribbon?” 
	Howie considered this question as if his 
	mother really expected an answer.“Well . . . I 
	could tie it on the tail of a kite if I had a 
	kite.” 
	“He just doesn’t want me to have it,” 
	explained Ramona. “He’s selfish.” 
	“I am not selfish,” said Howie.“You want 
	something that doesn’t belong to you.” 
	“I do not! ” yelled Ramona. 
	“Now Ramona,” said her mother.“A piece 
	of ribbon isn’t worth all this fuss. We have 
	53 
	other ribbons at home that you can have.” 
	Ramona did not know how to make her 
	mother understand. No other ribbon could 
	possibly take the place of this one. Miss 
	Binney had given her the ribbon, and she 
	wanted it because she loved Miss Binney so 
	much. She wished Miss Binney were here 
	now because her teacher, unlike the mothers, 
	would understand. All Ramona could say 
	was, “It’s mine.” 
	“I know!” said Mrs. Kemp, as if a brilliant 
	idea had come to her. “You can share the 
	ribbon.” 
	Ramona and Howie exchanged a look in 
	which they agreed that nothing would be 
	worse than sharing the ribbon. They both 
	knew there were some things that could 
	never be shared, and Miss Binney’s ribbon 
	was one of them. Ramona wanted that 
	ribbon, and she wanted it all to herself. She 
	knew that a grubby boy like Howie would 
	54 
	probably let Willa Jean drool on it and ruin it. 
	“That’s a good idea,” agreed Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Ramona, you let Howie carry it halfway 
	home, and then you can carry it the rest of 
	the way.” 
	“Then who gets it?” asked Howie, voicing the question that had risen in Ramona’s 
	thoughts. 
	“We can cut it in two so you each may 
	have half,” said Mrs. Kemp. “We’re having 
	lunch at Ramona’s house, and as soon as we 
	get there we’ll divide the ribbon.” 
	Miss Binney’s beautiful ribbon chopped 
	in two! This was too much. Ramona burst 
	into tears. Her half would not be long enough 
	for anything. If she ever got a two-wheeled 
	bicycle, there would not be enough ribbon 
	to weave through the spokes of a wheel. 
	There would not even be enough to tie up 
	Chevrolet’s hair. 
	“I’m tired of sharing,” said Howie.“Share, 
	55 
	share, share. That’s all grown-ups ever talk 
	about.” 
	Ramona could not understand why both 
	mothers were amused by Howie’s words. 
	She understood exactly what Howie meant, 
	and she liked him a little better for saying so. 
	She had always had a guilty feeling she was 
	the only person who felt that way. 
	“Now Howie, it isn’t as bad as all that,” 
	said his mother. 
	“It is too,” said Howie, and Ramona 
	nodded through her tears. 
	“Give me the ribbon,” said Mrs. Kemp. 
	“Maybe after lunch we’ll all feel better.” 
	Reluctantly Howie surrendered the precious ribbon, and said,“I suppose we’re having 
	tuna-fish sandwiches again.” 
	“Howie, that’s not polite,” said his mother. 
	At the Quimbys’ house, Ramona’s mother 
	said, “Why don’t you and Howie play with 
	your tricycle while I prepare lunch?” 
	56 
	“Sure, Ramona,” said Howie, as the two 
	mothers boosted Willa Jean’s stroller up the 
	steps, and he and Ramona were left together 
	whether they wanted to be or not. Ramona 
	sat down on the steps and tried to think of 
	a name to call Howie. Pieface wasn’t bad 
	enough. If she used some of the names she 
	had heard big boys use at school, her mother 
	would come out and scold her. Perhaps 
	“little booby boy” would do. 
	“Where’s your trike?” asked Howie. 
	“In the garage,” answered Ramona. “I 
	don’t ride it anymore now that I’m in 
	kindergarten.” 
	“How come?” asked Howie. 
	“I’m too big,” said Ramona. “Everybody 
	else on the block rides two-wheelers. Only 
	babies ride tricycles.” She made this remark 
	because she knew Howie still rode his tricycle, and she was so angry about the ribbon 
	she wanted to hurt his feelings. 
	57 
	If Howie’s feelings were hurt, he did 
	not show it. He seemed to be considering 
	Ramona’s remarks in his usual deliberate way. 
	“I could take off one of the wheels if I had 
	some pliers and a screwdriver,” he said at last. 
	Ramona was indignant. “And wreck my 
	tricycle?” Howie just wanted to get her into 
	trouble. 
	“It wouldn’t wreck it,” said Howie.“I take 
	the wheels off my tricycle all the time.You 
	can ride on the front wheel and one back 
	wheel.That way you’d have a two-wheeler.” 
	Ramona was not convinced. 
	“Come on, Ramona,” coaxed Howie. “I 
	like to take wheels off tricycles.” 
	Ramona considered. “If I let you take off 
	a wheel, do I get to keep the ribbon?” 
	“Well . . . I guess so.” After all, Howie was 
	a boy. He was more interested in taking a 
	tricycle apart than he was in playing with 
	any ribbon. 
	58 
	Ramona was doubtful about Howie’s 
	ability to turn her tricycle into a twowheeler, but she was determined to have 
	Miss Binney’s red ribbon. 
	She trundled her tricycle out of the garage. 
	Then she found the pliers and a screwdriver, 
	and handed them to Howie, who went to 
	work in a businesslike way. He used the 
	screwdriver to pry off the hub. With the 
	pliers he straightened the cotter pin that 
	held the wheel in place, removed it from the 
	axle, and pulled off the wheel. Next he 
	returned the cotter pin to its hole in the axle 
	and bent the ends out once more so the axle 
	would stay in place. “There,” he said with 
	satisfaction. For once he looked happy and 
	sure of himself. “You have to sort of lean to 
	one side when you ride it.” 
	Ramona was so impressed by Howie’s 
	work that her anger began to drain away. 
	Maybe Howie was right. She grasped her 
	59 
	
	tricycle by the handlebars and mounted the 
	seat. By leaning toward the side on which 
	the wheel had been removed, she managed 
	to balance herself and to ride down the 
	driveway in an uncertain and lopsided fashion. “Hey! It works!” she called out, when 
	she reached the sidewalk. She circled and 
	pedaled back toward Howie, who stood 
	
	beaming at the success of his alteration. 
	“I told you it would work,” he bragged. 
	“I didn’t believe you at first,” confessed 
	Ramona, who would never again be seen 
	riding a babyish three-wheeler. 
	The back door opened, and Mrs. Quimby 
	called out, “Come on, children. Your tuna 
	sandwiches are ready.” 
	“See my two-wheeler,” cried Ramona, 
	pedaling in a lopsided circle. 
	“Well, aren’t you a big girl!” exclaimed 
	her mother. “How did you ever manage to 
	do that?” 
	Ramona came to a halt.“Howie fixed my 
	trike for me and told me how to ride it.” 
	“What a clever boy!” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“You must be very good with tools.” 
	Howie beamed with pleasure at this 
	compliment. 
	“And Mama,” said Ramona, “Howie says 
	I can have Miss Binney’s ribbon.” 
	“Sure,” agreed Howie. “What do I want 
	with an old ribbon?” 
	“I’m going to weave it in and out of the 
	front spokes of my two-wheeler and ride 
	so fast it will make a blur,” said Ramona. 
	“Come on, Howie, let’s go eat our tuna-fish 
	sandwiches.” 
	62 
	3 
	Seat Work 
	There were two kinds of children who 
	went to kindergarten—those who 
	lined up beside the door before school, as 
	they were supposed to, and those who ran 
	around the playground and scrambled to 
	get into line when they saw Miss Binney 
	approaching. Ramona ran around the playground. 
	One morning as Ramona was running 
	63 
	
	around the playground she noticed Davy 
	waiting for Henry Huggins to lead him across 
	the intersection. She was interested to see that 
	Davy was wearing a black cape pinned to his 
	shoulders with two big safety pins. 
	While Henry held up two cars and a 
	cement truck, Ramona watched Davy cross64 
	ing the street. The more Ramona saw of 
	Davy, the better she liked him. He was such 
	a nice shy boy with blue eyes and soft brown 
	hair. Ramona always tried to choose Davy 
	for her partner in folk dancing, and when 
	the class played Gray Duck Ramona always 
	tagged Davy unless he was already in the 
	mush pot. 
	When Davy arrived, Ramona marched 
	up to him, and asked, “Are you Batman?” 
	“No,” said Davy. 
	“Are you Superman?” asked Ramona. 
	“No,” said Davy. 
	Who else could Davy be in a black cape? 
	Ramona stopped and thought, but was unable 
	to think of anyone else who wore a cape. 
	“Well, who are you?” she asked at last. 
	“Mighty Mouse!” crowed Davy, delighted 
	that he had baffled Ramona. 
	“I’m going to kiss you, Mighty Mouse!” 
	shrieked Ramona. 
	65 
	Davy began to run and Ramona ran after 
	him. Round and round the playground they 
	ran with Davy’s cape flying out behind him. 
	Under the traveling bars and around the 
	jungle gym she chased him. 
	“Run, Davy! Run!” screamed the rest of 
	the class, jumping up and down, until Miss 
	Binney was seen approaching, and everyone 
	scrambled to get into line. 
	Every morning afterward when Ramona 
	reached the playground she tried to catch 
	Davy so she could kiss him. 
	“Here comes Ramona!” the other boys 
	and girls shouted, when they saw Ramona 
	walking down the street.“Run, Davy! Run!” 
	And Davy ran with Ramona after him. 
	Round and round the playground they ran 
	while the class cheered Davy on. 
	“That kid ought to go out for track when 
	he gets a little older,” Ramona heard one of 
	the workmen across the street say one day. 
	66 
	
	Once Ramona came near enough to grab 
	Davy’s clothes, but he jerked away, popping 
	the buttons off his shirt. For once Davy 
	stopped running. “Now see what you did!” 
	he accused. “My mother is going to be mad 
	at you.” 
	Ramona stopped in her tracks. “I didn’t 
	do anything,” she said indignantly. “I just 
	hung on.You did the pulling.” 
	“Here comes Miss Binney,” someone 
	called out, and Ramona and Davy scurried 
	67 
	to get in line by the door. 
	After that Davy stayed farther away from 
	Ramona than ever, which made Ramona sad 
	because Davy was such a nice boy and she 
	did so long to kiss him. However, Ramona 
	was not so sad that she stopped chasing 
	Davy. Round and round they went every 
	morning until Miss Binney arrived. 
	Miss Binney, by this time, had begun to 
	teach her class something more than games, 
	the rules of the kindergarten, and the mysterious dawnzer song. Ramona thought of 
	kindergarten as being divided into two parts. 
	The first part was the running part, which 
	included games, dancing, finger painting, 
	and playing.The second part was called seat 
	work. Seat work was serious. Everyone was 
	expected to work quietly in his own seat 
	without disturbing anyone else. Ramona 
	found it difficult to sit still, because she was 
	always interested in what everyone else was 
	68 
	doing. “Ramona, keep your eyes on your 
	own work,” Miss Binney said, and sometimes Ramona remembered. 
	For the first seat-work assignment each 
	member of the class was told to draw a picture of his own house. Ramona, who had 
	expected to learn to read and write in school 
	like her sister Beezus, used her new crayons 
	quickly to draw her house with two windows, a door, and a red chimney. With her 
	green crayon she scrubbed in some shrubbery. 
	Anyone familiar with her neighborhood 
	could tell the picture was of her house, but 
	somehow Ramona was not satisfied. She 
	looked around to see what others were doing. 
	Susan had drawn a picture of her house 
	and was adding a girl with boing-boing curls 
	looking out the window. Howie, who had 
	drawn his house with the garage door open 
	and a car inside, was adding a motorcycle 
	parked at the curb. Davy’s house looked like 
	69 
	a clubhouse built by some boys who had a 
	few old boards and not enough nails. It leaned 
	to one side in a tired sort of way. 
	Ramona studied her own drawing and 
	decided she would have to do something to 
	make it more interesting. After considering 
	various colors of crayon, she selected the 
	black and drew big black swirls coming 
	from the windows. 
	“You aren’t supposed to scribble on your 
	picture,” said Howie, who also was inclined 
	to pay attention to other people’s work. 
	Ramona was indignant.“I didn’t scribble. 
	The black is part of my picture.” 
	When Miss Binney asked the class to 
	set their pictures on the chalk rail so that 
	everyone might see them, the class noticed 
	Ramona’s picture at once, because it was 
	drawn with bold, heavy strokes and because 
	of the black swirls. 
	“Miss Binney, Ramona scribbled all over 
	70 
	her house,” said Susan, who by now had 
	revealed herself as the kind of girl who 
	always wanted to play house so she could be 
	the mother and boss everybody. 
	“I did not!” protested Ramona, beginning to see that her picture was going to be 
	misunderstood by everyone. Maybe she had 
	been wrong to try to make it interesting. 
	Maybe Miss Binney did not want interesting 
	pictures. 
	“You did, too!” Joey ran up to the chalk rail 
	and pointed to Ramona’s black swirls.“See!” 
	The class, including Ramona, waited for 
	Miss Binney to say Ramona should not scribble on her picture, but Miss Binney merely 
	smiled and said,“Remember your seat, Joey. 
	Ramona, suppose you tell us about your 
	picture.” 
	“I didn’t scribble on it,” said Ramona. 
	“Of course you didn’t,” Miss Binney said. 
	Ramona loved her teacher even more. 
	71 
	“Well,” she began,“that black isn’t scribbling. 
	It’s smoke coming out of the windows.” 
	“And why is smoke coming out of the 
	windows?” gently pressed Miss Binney. 
	“Because there’s a fire in the fireplace 
	and the chimney is stopped up,” explained 
	Ramona. “It’s stopped up with Santa Claus, 
	but he doesn’t show in the picture.” Ramona 
	smiled shyly at her teacher. “I wanted to 
	make my picture interesting.” 
	Miss Binney returned her smile. “And 
	you did make it interesting.” 
	Davy looked worried. “How does Santa 
	Claus get out?” he asked.“He doesn’t stay in 
	there, does he?” 
	“Of course he gets out,” said Ramona. “I 
	just didn’t show that part.” 
	The next day seat work got harder. Miss 
	Binney said that everyone had to learn to 
	print his name. Ramona saw right away that 
	this business of names was not fair.When Miss 
	72 
	Binney handed each member of the class a 
	strip of cardboard with his name printed on 
	it, anyone could see that a girl named 
	Ramona was going to have to work harder 
	than a girl named Ann or a boy named Joe. 
	Not that Ramona minded having to work 
	harder—she was eager to learn to read and 
	write. Having been the youngest member of 
	her family and of the neighborhood, however, 
	she had learned to watch for unfair situations. 
	Carefully Ramona printed R the way 
	Miss Binney had printed it. A was easy. Even 
	a baby could print A. Miss Binney said A 
	was pointed like a witch’s hat, and Ramona 
	was planning to be a witch for the Halloween 
	parade. O was also easy. It was a round balloon. Some people’s O’s looked like leaky 
	balloons, but Ramona’s O’s were balloons 
	full of air. 
	“I like the way Ramona’s O’s are fat balloons full of air,” Miss Binney said to the 
	73 
	class, and Ramona’s heart filled with joy. 
	Miss Binney liked her O’s best! 
	Miss Binney walked around the classroom looking over shoulders. “That’s right, 
	boys and girls. Nice pointed A’s,” she said. 
	“A’s with nice sharp peaks. No, Davy. D 
	faces the other way. Splendid, Karen. I like 
	the way Karen’s K has a nice straight back.” 
	Ramona wished she had a K in her name, 
	so that she could give it a nice straight back. 
	Ramona enjoyed Miss Binney’s descriptions 
	of the letters of the alphabet and listened 
	for them while she worked. In front of her 
	Susan played with a curl while she worked. 
	She twisted it around her finger, stretched it 
	out, and let it go. Boing, thought Ramona 
	automatically. 
	“Ramona, let’s keep our eyes on our 
	work,” said Miss Binney. “No, Davy. D faces 
	the other way.” 
	Once more Ramona bent over her paper. 
	74 
	
	The hardest part of her name, she soon discovered, was getting the right number of 
	points on the M and N. Sometimes her 
	name came out RANOMA, but before long 
	she remembered that two points came first. 
	“Good work, Ramona,” said Miss Binney, 
	the first time Ramona printed her name 
	correctly. Ramona hugged herself with happiness and love for Miss Binney. Soon, 
	she was sure, she would be able to join her 
	letters together and write her name in the 
	same rumply grown-up way that Beezus 
	wrote her name. 
	Then Ramona discovered that some boys 
	and girls had an extra letter followed by a 
	dot. “Miss Binney, why don’t I have a letter 
	with a dot after it?” she asked. 
	“Because we have only one Ramona,” said 
	Miss Binney.“We have two Erics. Eric Jones 
	and Eric Ryan.We call them Eric J. and Eric 
	R., because we don’t want to get our Erics 
	mixed up.” 
	Ramona did not like to miss anything. 
	“Could I have another letter with a little 
	dot?” she asked, knowing that Miss Binney 
	would not think she was pestering. 
	Miss Binney smiled and leaned over 
	Ramona’s table. “Of course you may.This is 
	the way to make a Q. A nice round O with 
	a little tail like a cat. And there is your little 
	dot, which is called a period.” Then Miss 
	Binney walked on, supervising seat work. 
	76 
	Ramona was charmed by her last initial. 
	She drew a nice round O beside the one Miss 
	Binney had drawn, and then she added a tail 
	before she leaned back to admire her work. 
	She had one balloon and two Halloween hats 
	in her first name and a cat in her last name. 
	She doubted if anyone else in the morning 
	kindergarten had such an interesting name. 
	The next day at seat-work time Ramona 
	practiced her Q while Miss Binney walked 
	around helping those with S in their names. 
	All the S ’s were having trouble.“No, Susan,” 
	said Miss Binney. “S stands up straight. It 
	does not lie down as if it were a little worm 
	crawling along the ground.” 
	Susan pulled out a curl and let it spring 
	back. 
	Boing, thought Ramona. 
	“My, how many S ’s we have that are 
	crawling along like little worms,” remarked 
	Miss Binney. 
	77 
	Ramona was pleased that she had escaped 
	S. She drew another Q and admired it a 
	moment before she added two little pointed 
	ears, and then she added two whiskers on 
	each side so that her Q looked the way the cat 
	looked when crouched on a rug in front of 
	the fireplace. 
	How pleased Miss Binney 
	would be! Miss Binney would say to the 
	kindergarten, “What a splendid Q Ramona 
	has made. It looks exactly like a little cat.” 
	“No, Davy,” Miss Binney was saying. “A 
	D does not have four corners. It has two 
	corners. One side is curved like a robin redbreast.” 
	This conversation was so interesting that 
	Ramona was curious to see Davy’s D for 
	herself. She waited until Miss Binney had 
	moved away before she slipped out of her 
	seat and over to the next table to look at 
	Davy’s D. It was a great disappointment. 
	“That D doesn’t look like a robin,” she 
	78 
	whispered. “It doesn’t have any feathers. A 
	robin has to have feathers.” She had watched 
	robins pulling worms out of her front lawn 
	many times. They all had feathers on their 
	breasts, little soft feathers mussed by the 
	wind. 
	Davy studied his work.Then he scrubbed 
	out half his D with his eraser and drew it in 
	a series of little jags. It did not look like Miss 
	Binney’s D, but it did look, in Ramona’s 
	opinion, more like the front of a robin with 
	feathers mussed by the wind, which was what 
	Miss Binney wanted, wasn’t it? A D like a 
	robin redbreast. 
	“Good work, Davy,” said Ramona, trying 
	to sound like her teacher. Now maybe Davy 
	would let her kiss him. 
	“Ramona,” said Miss Binney, “in your 
	seat, please.” She walked back to look at 
	Davy’s seat work. “No, Davy. Didn’t I tell 
	you the curve of a D is as smooth as a robin 
	79 
	redbreast? Yours is all jagged.” 
	Davy looked bewildered. “Those are 
	feathers,” he said. “Feathers like a robin.” 
	“Oh, I’m sorry, Davy. I didn’t mean . . .” 
	Miss Binney behaved as if she did not know 
	quite what to say.“I didn’t mean you to show 
	each feather. I meant you to make it smooth 
	and round.” 
	“Ramona told me to do it this way,” said 
	Davy. “Ramona said a robin has to have 
	feathers.” 
	“Ramona is not the kindergarten teacher.” 
	Miss Binney’s voice, although not exactly 
	cross, was not her usual gentle voice. “You 
	make your D the way I showed you and 
	never mind what Ramona says.” 
	Ramona felt confused. Things had such 
	an unexpected way of turning out all wrong. 
	Miss Binney said a D should look like a 
	robin redbreast, didn’t she? And robins had 
	feathers, didn’t they? So why wasn’t putting 
	80 
	feathers on a D all right? 
	Davy glared at Ramona as he took his 
	eraser and scrubbed out half his D a second 
	time. He scrubbed so hard he rumpled his 
	paper. “Now see what you did,” he said. 
	Ramona felt terrible. Dear little Davy 
	whom she loved so much was angry with 
	her, and now he would run faster than ever. 
	She never would get to kiss him. 
	And even worse, Miss Binney did not like 
	D’s with feathers, so she probably would 
	not like Q’s with ears and whiskers either. 
	Hoping her teacher would not see what she 
	was doing, Ramona quickly and regretfully 
	erased the ears and whiskers from her Q. 
	How plain and bare it looked with only its 
	tail left to keep it from being an O. Miss 
	Binney, who could understand that Santa 
	Claus in the chimney would make a fireplace smoke, might be disappointed if she 
	knew Ramona had given her Q ears and 
	81 
	whiskers, because lettering was different 
	from drawing pictures. 
	Ramona loved Miss Binney so much she 
	did not want to disappoint her. Not ever. 
	Miss Binney was the nicest teacher in the 
	whole world. 
	82 
	4 
	The Substitute 
	Before long Mrs. Quimby and Mrs. 
	Kemp decided the time had come for 
	Ramona and Howie to walk to school by 
	themselves. Mrs. Kemp, pushing Willa Jean 
	in her stroller, walked Howie to the Quimbys’ 
	house where Ramona’s mother invited her 
	in for a cup of coffee. 
	“You better put all your stuff away,” Howie 
	advised Ramona, as his mother lifted his 
	83 
	little sister out of the stroller. “Willa Jean 
	crawls around and chews things.” 
	Grateful for this advice, Ramona closed 
	the door of her room. 
	“Now Howie, you be sure to look both 
	ways before you cross the street,” cautioned 
	his mother. 
	“You, too, Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“And be sure you walk. And walk on the 
	sidewalk. Don’t go running out in the street.” 
	“And cross between the white lines,” said 
	Mrs. Kemp. 
	“And wait for the traffic boy near the 
	school,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“And don’t talk to strangers,” said Mrs. 
	Kemp. 
	Ramona and Howie, weighed down by 
	the responsibility of walking themselves to 
	school, trudged off down the street. Howie 
	was even gloomier than usual, because he was 
	the only boy in the morning kindergarten 
	84 
	who wore jeans with only one hip pocket. 
	All the other boys had two hip pockets. 
	“That’s silly,” said Ramona, still inclined 
	to be impatient with Howie. If Howie did 
	not like his jeans, why didn’t he make a great 
	big noisy fuss about them? 
	“No, it isn’t,” contradicted Howie. “Jeans 
	with one hip pocket are babyish.” 
	At the cross street Ramona and Howie 
	stopped and looked both ways. They saw a 
	car coming a block away so they waited.They 
	waited and waited. When the car finally 
	passed, they saw another car coming a block 
	away in the opposite direction.They waited 
	some more. At last the coast was clear, 
	and they walked, stiff-legged in their haste, 
	across the street. “Whew!” said Howie, 
	relieved that they were safely across. 
	The next intersection was easier because 
	Henry Huggins, in his red traffic sweater 
	and yellow cap, was the traffic boy on duty. 
	85 
	Ramona was not awed by Henry even 
	though he often got to hold up cement and 
	lumber trucks delivering material for the 
	market that was being built across from the 
	school. She had known Henry and his dog 
	Ribsy as long as she could remember, and 
	she admired Henry because not only was he 
	a traffic boy, he also delivered papers. 
	Now Ramona looked at Henry, who was 
	standing with his feet apart and his hands 
	clasped behind his back. Ribsy was sitting 
	beside him as if he were watching traffic, 
	too. Just to see what Henry would do, 
	Ramona stepped off the curb. 
	“You get back on the curb, Ramona,” 
	Henry ordered above the noise of the construction on the corner. 
	Ramona set one foot back on the curb. 
	“All the way, Ramona,” said Henry. 
	Ramona stood with both heels on the 
	curb, but her toes out over the gutter. Henry 
	86 
	
	could not say she was not standing on the 
	curb, so he merely glared.When several boys 
	and girls were waiting to cross the street, 
	Henry marched across with Ribsy prancing 
	along beside him. 
	“Beat it, Ribsy,” said Henry between his 
	teeth. Ribsy paid no attention. 
	Directly in front of Ramona Henry executed a sharp about-face like a real soldier. 
	Ramona marched behind Henry, stepping as 
	close to his sneakers as she could.The other 
	children laughed. 
	On the opposite curb Henry tried to 
	execute another military about-face, but 
	instead he tripped over Ramona.“Doggone 
	you, Ramona,” he said angrily. “If you don’t 
	cut that out I’m going to report you.” 
	“Nobody reports kindergarteners,” scoffed 
	an older boy. 
	“Well, I’m going to report Ramona if she 
	doesn’t cut it out,” said Henry. Obviously 
	88 
	Henry felt it was his bad luck that he had 
	to guard an intersection where Ramona 
	crossed the street. 
	Between crossing the street without a 
	grown-up and getting so much attention 
	from Henry, Ramona felt that her day was 
	off to a good start. However, as she and 
	Howie approached the kindergarten building, she saw at once that something was 
	wrong. The door to the kindergarten was 
	already open. No one was playing on the 
	jungle gym. No one was running around 
	the playground. No one was even waiting 
	in line by the door. Instead the boys and 
	girls were huddled in groups like frightened 
	mice.They all looked worried and once in a 
	while someone who appeared to be acting 
	brave would run to the open door, peer 
	inside, and come running back to one of the 
	groups to report something. 
	“What’s the matter?” asked Ramona. 
	89 
	“Miss Binney isn’t there,” whispered Susan. 
	“It’s a different lady.” 
	“A substitute,” said Eric R. 
	Miss Binney not there! Susan must be 
	wrong. Miss Binney had to be there. Kindergarten would not be kindergarten without 
	Miss Binney. Ramona ran to the door to see 
	for herself. Susan was right. Miss Binney was 
	not there.The woman who was busy at Miss 
	Binney’s desk was taller and older. She was 
	as old as a mother. Her dress was brown and 
	her shoes were sensible. 
	Ramona did not like what she saw at all, 
	so she ran back to a cluster of boys and girls. 
	“What are we going to do?” she asked, feeling as if she had been deserted by Miss 
	Binney. For her teacher to go home and not 
	come back was not right. 
	“I think I’ll go home,” said Susan. 
	Ramona thought this idea was babyish of 
	Susan. She had seen what happened to boys 
	90 
	and girls who ran home from kindergarten. 
	Their mothers marched them right straight 
	back again, that’s what happened. No, going 
	home would not do. 
	“I bet the substitute won’t even know the 
	rules of our kindergarten,” said Howie. 
	The children agreed. Miss Binney said 
	following the rules of their kindergarten was 
	important. How could this stranger know 
	what the rules were? A stranger would not 
	even know the names of the boys and girls. 
	She might get them mixed up. 
	Still feeling that Miss Binney was disloyal 
	to stay away from school, Ramona made up 
	her mind she was not going into that kindergarten room with that strange teacher. 
	Nobody could make her go in there. But 
	where could she go? She could not go 
	home, because her mother would march her 
	back. She could not go into the main building of Glenwood School, because everyone 
	91 
	would know a girl her size belonged out 
	in the kindergarten. She had to hide, but 
	where? 
	When the first bell rang, Ramona knew 
	she did not have much time. There was no 
	place to hide on the kindergarten playground, 
	so she slipped around behind the little building and joined the boys and girls who were 
	streaming into the red-brick building. 
	“Kindergarten baby!” a first grader 
	shouted at Ramona. 
	“Pieface!” answered Ramona with spirit. 
	She could see only two places to hide— 
	behind the bicycle racks or behind a row of 
	trash cans. Ramona chose the trash cans. As 
	the last children entered the building she got 
	down on her hands and knees and crawled 
	into the space between the cans and the redbrick wall. 
	The second bell rang. “Hup, two, three, 
	four! Hup, two, three, four!”The traffic boys 
	92 
	were marching back from their posts at the 
	intersections near the school. Ramona 
	crouched motionless on the asphalt. “Hup, 
	two, three, four!” The traffic boys, heads up, 
	eyes front, marched past the trash cans and 
	into the building.The playground was quiet, 
	and Ramona was alone. 
	Henry’s dog Ribsy, who had followed the 
	traffic boys as far as the door of the school, 
	came trotting over to check the odors of 
	the trash cans. He put his nose down to the 
	ground and whiffled around the cans while 
	Ramona crouched motionless with the rough 
	asphalt digging into her knees. Ribsy’s busy 
	nose led him around the can face to face 
	with Ramona. 
	“Wuf!” said Ribsy. 
	“Ribsy, go away!” ordered Ramona in a 
	whisper. 
	“R-r-r-wuf!” Ribsy knew Ramona was 
	not supposed to be behind the trash cans. 
	93 
	“You be quiet!” Ramona’s whisper was as 
	ferocious as she could make it. Over in the 
	kindergarten the class began to sing the song 
	about the dawnzer. At least the strange 
	woman knew that much about kindergarten. 
	After the dawnzer song the kindergarten was 
	quiet. Ramona wondered if the teacher knew 
	that Show and Tell was supposed to come 
	next. She strained her ears, but she could not 
	hear any activity in the little building. 
	The space between the brick wall and the 
	trash cans began to feel as cold as a refrigerator to Ramona in her thin sweater. The 
	asphalt dug into her knees, so she sat down 
	with her feet straight out toward Ribsy’s 
	nose.The minutes dragged by. 
	Except for Ribsy, Ramona was lonely. 
	She leaned against the chill red bricks and 
	felt sorry for herself. Poor little Ramona, all 
	alone except for Ribsy, behind the trash 
	cans. Miss Binney would be sorry if she 
	94 
	knew what she had made Ramona do. She 
	would be sorry if she knew how cold and 
	lonesome Ramona was. Ramona felt so sorry 
	for the poor shivering little child behind the 
	trash cans that one tear and then another slid 
	down her cheeks. She sniffed pitifully. Ribsy 
	opened one eye and looked at her before he 
	closed it again. Not even Henry’s dog cared 
	what happened to her. 
	After a while Ramona heard the kindergarten running and laughing outside. How 
	disloyal everyone was to have so much fun 
	when Miss Binney had deserted her class. 
	Ramona wondered if the kindergarten missed 
	her and if anyone else would chase Davy 
	and try to kiss him.Then Ramona must have 
	dozed off, because the next thing she knew 
	recess time had come and the playground 
	was swarming with shouting, yelling, ballthrowing older boys and girls. Ribsy was 
	gone. Stiff with cold, Ramona hunched down 
	95 
	as low as she could. A ball bounced with a 
	bang against a trash can. Ramona shut her 
	eyes and hoped that if she could not see 
	anyone, no one could see her. 
	Footsteps came running toward the ball. 
	“Hey!” exclaimed a boy’s voice. “There’s a 
	little kid hiding back here!” 
	Ramona’s eyes flew open.“Go away!” she 
	said fiercely to the strange boy, who was 
	peering over the cans at her. 
	“What are you hiding back there for?” 
	asked the boy. 
	“Go away!” ordered Ramona. 
	“Hey, Huggins!” yelled the boy.“There’s a 
	little kid back here who lives over near you!” 
	In a moment Henry was peering over the 
	trash cans at Ramona. “What are you doing 
	there?” he demanded. “You’re supposed to 
	be in kindergarten.” 
	“You mind your own business,” said 
	Ramona. 
	Naturally when two boys peered behind 
	96 
	the trash cans, practically the whole school 
	had to join them to see what was so interesting. “What’s she doing?” people asked. “How 
	come she’s hiding?” “Does her teacher know 
	she’s here?” 
	In the midst of all the excitement, Ramona 
	felt a new discomfort. 
	“Find her sister,” someone said. “Get 
	Beatrice. She’ll know what to do.” 
	No one had to find Beezus. She was 
	already there. “Ramona Geraldine Quimby!” 
	she said.“You come out of there this minute!” 
	“I won’t,” said Ramona, even though she 
	knew she could not stay there much longer. 
	“Ramona, you just wait until Mother 
	hears about this!” stormed Beezus. “You’re 
	really going to catch it!” 
	Ramona knew that Beezus was right, but 
	catching it from her mother was not what 
	was worrying her at the moment. 
	“Here comes the yard teacher,” someone 
	said. 
	97 
	
	Ramona had to admit defeat. She got to 
	her hands and knees and then to her feet 
	and faced the crowd across the trash-can lids 
	as the yard teacher came to investigate the 
	commotion. 
	“Don’t you belong in kindergarten?” the 
	yard teacher asked. 
	“I’m not going to go to kindergarten,” said 
	Ramona stubbornly, and cast an anguished 
	glance at Beezus. 
	98 
	“She’s supposed to be in kindergarten,” 
	said Beezus, “but she needs to go to the 
	bathroom.” The older boys and girls 
	thought this remark was funny, which made 
	Ramona so angry she wanted to cry.There 
	was nothing funny about it at all, and if she 
	didn’t hurry— 
	The yard teacher turned to Beezus. “Take 
	her to the bathroom and then to the principal’s office. She’ll find out what the trouble is.” 
	The first words were a relief to Ramona, 
	but the second a shock. No one in the 
	morning kindergarten had ever been sent to 
	Miss Mullen’s office in the big building, 
	except to deliver a note from Miss Binney, 
	and then the children went in pairs, because 
	the errand was such a scary one. “What will 
	the principal do to me?” Ramona asked, as 
	Beezus led her away to the girls’ bathroom 
	in the big building. 
	“I don’t know,” said Beezus.“Talk to you, 
	I guess, or call Mother. Ramona, why did you 
	99 
	have to go and do a dumb thing like hiding 
	behind the trash cans?” 
	“Because.” Ramona was cross since Beezus 
	was so cross.When the girls came out of the 
	bathroom, Ramona reluctantly allowed herself to be led into the principal’s office, where 
	she felt small and frightened even though 
	she tried not to show it. 
	“This is my little sister Ramona,” Beezus 
	explained to Miss Mullen’s secretary in the 
	outer office. “She belongs in kindergarten, 
	but she’s been hiding behind the trash cans.” 
	Miss Mullen must have overheard, because 
	she came out of her office. Frightened though 
	she was, Ramona braced herself to say, I 
	won’t go back to kindergarten! 
	“Why, hello, Ramona,” said Miss Mullen. 
	“That’s all right, Beatrice.You may go back 
	to your class. I’ll take over.” 
	Ramona wanted to stay close to her sister, 
	but Beezus walked out of the office, leaving 
	100 
	
	her alone with the principal, the most important person in the whole school. Ramona 
	felt small and pitiful with her knees still 
	marked where the asphalt had gouged her. 
	101 
	Miss Mullen smiled, as if Ramona’s behavior 
	was of no particular importance, and said, 
	“Isn’t it too bad Miss Binney had to stay 
	home with a sore throat? I know what a 
	surprise it was for you to find a strange 
	teacher in your kindergarten room.” 
	Ramona wondered how Miss Mullen 
	knew so much. The principal did not even 
	bother to ask what Ramona was doing 
	behind the trash cans. She did not feel the 
	least bit sorry for the poor little girl with the 
	gouged knees. She simply took Ramona by 
	the hand, and said, “I’m going to introduce 
	you to Mrs.Wilcox. I know you’re going to 
	like her,” and started out the door. 
	Ramona felt a little indignant, because 
	Miss Mullen did not demand to know why 
	she had been hiding all that time. Miss 
	Mullen did not even notice how forlorn 
	and tearstained Ramona looked. Ramona 
	had been so cold and lonely and miserable 
	102 
	that she thought Miss Mullen should show 
	some interest. She had half expected the 
	principal to say, Why you poor little thing! 
	Why were you hiding behind the trash cans? 
	The looks on the faces of the morning 
	kindergarten, when Ramona walked into 
	the room with the principal, made up for 
	Miss Mullen’s lack of concern. Round eyes, 
	open mouths, faces blank with surprise— 
	Ramona was delighted to see the whole class 
	staring at her from their seats. They were 
	worried about her. They cared what had 
	happened to her. 
	“Ramona, this is Miss Binney’s substitute, 
	Mrs.Wilcox,” said Miss Mullen. To the substitute she said, “Ramona is a little late this 
	morning.” That was all. Not a word about 
	how cold and miserable Ramona had been. 
	Not a word about how brave she had been 
	to hide until recess. 
	“I’m glad you’re here, Ramona,” said 
	103 
	Mrs. Wilcox, as the principal left. “The class 
	is drawing with crayons. What would you 
	like to draw?” 
	Here it was seat-work time, and Mrs. 
	Wilcox was not even having the class do real 
	seat work, but was letting them draw pictures as if this day were the first day of 
	kindergarten. Ramona was most disapproving. Things were not supposed to be this 
	way. She looked at Howie scrubbing away 
	with a blue crayon to make a sky across the 
	top of his paper and at Davy, who was drawing a man whose arms seemed to come out 
	of his ears.They were busy and happy drawing whatever they pleased. 
	“I would like to make Q’s,” said Ramona 
	on sudden inspiration. 
	“Make use of what?” asked Mrs. Wilcox, 
	holding out a sheet of drawing paper. 
	Ramona had been sure all along that the 
	substitute could not be as smart as Miss 
	Binney, but at least she expected her to know 
	104 
	what the letter Q was. All grown-ups were 
	supposed to know Q. “Nothing,” Ramona 
	said, as she accepted the paper and, pleasantly self-conscious under the awed stares of 
	the kindergarten, went to her seat. 
	At last Ramona was free to draw her Q 
	her own way. Forgetting the loneliness and 
	discomfort of the morning, she drew a most 
	satisfying row of Q’s, Ramona-style, and 
	decided that having a substitute teacher was 
	not so bad after all. 
	Mrs. Wilcox wandered up and down the 
	aisle looking at pictures. “Why, Ramona,” 
	she said, pausing by Ramona’s desk, “what 
	charming little cats you’ve drawn! Do you 
	have kittens at home?” 
	Ramona felt sorry for poor Mrs.Wilcox, a 
	grown-up lady teacher who did not know Q. 
	“No,” she answered. “Our cat is a boy cat.” 
	105 
	5 
	Ramona’s 
	Engagement Ring 
	“No!” said Ramona on the first rainy morning after she had started kindergarten. 
	“Yes,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“No!” said Ramona. “I won’t!” 
	“Ramona, be sensible,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“I don’t want to be sensible,” said Ramona. 
	“I hate being sensible!” 
	“Now, Ramona,” said her mother, and 
	Ramona knew she was about to be reasoned 
	106 
	with. “You have a new raincoat. Boots cost 
	money, and Howie’s old boots are perfectly 
	good.The soles are scarcely worn.” 
	“The tops aren’t shiny,” Ramona told her 
	mother. “And they’re brown boots. Brown 
	boots are for boys.” 
	“They keep your feet dry,” said Mrs. 
	Quimby, “and that is what boots are for.” 
	Ramona realized she looked sulky, but 
	she could not help herself. Only grown-ups 
	would say boots were for keeping feet dry. 
	Anyone in kindergarten knew that a girl 
	should wear shiny red or white boots on the 
	first rainy day, not to keep her feet dry, but 
	to show off. That’s what boots were for— 
	showing off, wading, splashing, stamping. 
	“Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby sternly. 
	“Get that look off your face this instant. 
	Either you wear these boots or you stay 
	home from school.” 
	Ramona recognized that her mother 
	107 
	
	meant what she said, and so, because she loved 
	kindergarten, she sat down on the floor and 
	dragged on the hated brown boots, which did 
	not go with her new flowered plastic raincoat and hat. 
	Howie arrived in a yellow slicker that was 
	long enough for him to grow into for at 
	108 
	least two years and a yellow rain hat that 
	almost hid his face. Beneath the raincoat 
	Ramona glimpsed a pair of shiny brown 
	boots, which she supposed she would have 
	to wear someday when they were old and 
	dull and dirty. 
	“Those are my old boots,” said Howie, 
	looking at Ramona’s feet as they started off 
	to school. 
	“You better not tell anybody.” Ramona 
	plodded along on feet almost too heavy to 
	lift. It was a perfect morning for anyone with 
	new boots. Enough rain had fallen in the 
	night to fill the gutters with muddy streams 
	and to bring worms squirming out of the 
	lawns onto the sidewalks. 
	The intersection by the school was 
	unusually quiet that morning, because rain 
	had halted construction on the new market. 
	Ramona was so downhearted that she did 
	not even tease Henry Huggins when he led 
	109 
	her across the street.The kindergarten playground, as she had expected, was swarming 
	with boys and girls in raincoats, most of 
	them too big, and boots, most of them new. 
	The girls wore various sorts of raincoats and 
	red or white boots—all except Susan, who 
	carried her new white boots so she would 
	not get them muddy. The boys looked alike, 
	because they all wore yellow raincoats and 
	hats and brown boots. Ramona was not 
	even sure which boy was Davy, not that he 
	mattered to her this morning. Her feet felt 
	too heavy for chasing anyone. 
	Part of the class had lined up properly by 
	the door, waiting for Miss Binney, while the 
	rest ran about clomping, splashing, and stamping. “Those are boys’ boots you’re wearing,” 
	said Susan to Ramona. 
	Ramona did not answer. Instead she 
	picked up a smooth pink worm that lay 
	wiggling on the playground and, without 
	110 
	really thinking, wound it around her finger. 
	“Look!” yelled Davy from beneath his 
	big rain hat.“Ramona’s wearing a ring made 
	out of a worm! ” 
	Ramona had not thought of the worm as 
	a ring until now, but she saw at once that the 
	idea was interesting. “See my ring!” she 
	shouted, thrusting her fist toward the nearest face. 
	Boots were temporarily forgotten. Everyone ran screaming from Ramona to avoid 
	being shown her ring. 
	“See my ring! See my ring!” shouted 
	Ramona, racing around the playground on 
	feet that were suddenly much lighter. 
	When Miss Binney appeared around the 
	corner, the class scrambled to line up by the 
	door.“Miss Binney! Miss Binney!” Everyone 
	wanted to be the first to tell. “Ramona is 
	wearing a worm for a ring!” 
	“It’s a pink worm,” said Ramona, thrusting 
	111 
	out her hand.“Not an old dead white worm.” 
	“Oh . . . what a pretty worm,” said Miss 
	Binney bravely. “It’s so smooth and . . . pink.” 
	Ramona elaborated. “It’s my engagement 
	ring.” 
	“Who are you engaged to?” asked Ann. 
	“I haven’t decided,” answered Ramona. 
	“Not me,” Davy piped up. 
	“Not me,” said Howie. 
	“Not me,” said Eric R. 
	“Well . . . a . . . Ramona . . .” Miss Binney 
	was searching for words. “I don’t think you 
	should wear your . . . ring during kindergarten. Why don’t you put it down on the 
	playground in a puddle so that it will . . . stay 
	fresh.” 
	Ramona was happy to do anything Miss 
	Binney wanted her to. She unwound the 
	worm from her finger and placed it carefully 
	in a puddle, where it lay limp and still. 
	✩✩✩
	112 
	After that Ramona raced around the 
	playground with a worm around her finger 
	whenever her mother made her wear Howie’s 
	old boots to school, and when everyone asked 
	who she was engaged to, she always answered, 
	“I haven’t decided.” 
	“Not me!” Davy always said, followed by 
	Howie, Eric R., and any other boy who 
	happened to be near. 
	Then one Saturday Mrs. Quimby examined Ramona’s scuffed shoes and discovered 
	that not only were the heels worn down, the 
	leather of the toes was worn through because 
	Ramona stopped her lopsided two-wheeled 
	tricycle by dragging her toes on the concrete. Mrs. Quimby had Ramona stand up 
	while she felt her feet through the leather. 
	“It’s time for new shoes,” Mrs. Quimby 
	decided. “Get your jacket and your boots, 
	and we’ll drive down to the shopping center.” 
	“It isn’t raining today,” said Ramona.“Why 
	113 
	do I have to take boots?” 
	“To see if they will fit over your new 
	shoes,” answered her mother. “Hurry along, 
	Ramona.” 
	When they reached the shoe store, 
	Ramona’s favorite shoe salesman said, as 
	Ramona and her mother sat down, “What’s 
	the matter with my little Petunia today? 
	Don’t you have a smile for me?” 
	Ramona shook her head and looked sadly 
	and longingly at a row of beautiful shiny 
	girls’ boots displayed on one side of the 
	store. There she sat with Howie’s dingy old 
	brown boots beside her. How could she 
	smile? A babyish nursery-school girl, who 
	was wearing new red boots, was rocking 
	joyously on the shoe store’s rocking horse 
	while her mother paid for the boots. 
	“Well, we’ll see what we can do for you,” 
	said the salesman briskly, as he pulled off 
	Ramona’s shoes and made her stand with 
	114 
	her foot on the measuring stick. Finding the 
	right pair of oxfords for her did not take 
	him long. 
	“Now try on the boots,” said Mrs. Quimby 
	in her no-nonsense voice, when Ramona 
	had walked across the shoe store and back in 
	her new shoes. 
	For a moment, as Ramona sat down on 
	the floor and grasped one of the hated boots, 
	she considered pretending she could not get 
	it on. However, she knew she could not get 
	away with this trick, because the shoe-store 
	man understood both children and shoes. 
	She pulled and yanked and tugged and managed to get her foot most of the way in. 
	When she stood up she was on tiptoe inside 
	the boot. Her mother tugged some more, 
	and her shoe went all the way into the boot. 
	“There,” said Mrs. Quimby. Ramona 
	sighed. 
	The babyish nursery-school girl stopped 
	115 
	rocking long enough to announce to the 
	world, “I have new boots.” 
	“Tell me, Petunia,” said the shoe man. 
	“How many boys and girls in your kindergarten?” 
	“Twenty-nine,” said Ramona with a long 
	face. Twenty-nine, most of them with new 
	boots. The happy booted nursery-school 
	baby climbed off the rocking horse, collected her free balloon, and left with her 
	mother. 
	The shoe man spoke to Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Kindergarten teachers like boots to fit 
	loosely so the children can manage by themselves. I doubt if Petunia’s teacher has time 
	to help with fifty-eight boots.” 
	“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Mrs. 
	Quimby. “Perhaps we had better look at 
	boots after all.” 
	“I’ll bet Petunia here would like red 
	boots,” said the shoe man. When Ramona 
	116 
	
	beamed, he added,“I had a hunch that would 
	get a smile out of you.” 
	When Ramona left the shoe store with 
	her beautiful red boots, girls’ boots, in a box, 
	which she carried herself, she was so filled 
	with joy she set her balloon free just to 
	watch it sail over the parking lot and up, up 
	into the sky until it was a tiny red dot 
	against the gray clouds.The stiff soles of her 
	new shoes made such a pleasant noise on the 
	pavement that she began to prance. She was 
	a pony. No, she was one of the three Billy 
	Goats Gruff, the littlest one, trip-trapping 
	over the bridge that the troll was hiding 
	under. Ramona trip-trapped joyfully all the 
	way to the parked car, and when she reached 
	home she trip-trapped up and down the hall 
	and all around the house. 
	“For goodness’ sake, Ramona,” said Mrs. 
	Quimby, while she was marking Ramona’s 
	name in the new boots,“can’t you just walk?” 
	“Not when I’m the littlest Billy Goat 
	Gruff,” answered Ramona, and trip-trapped 
	down the hall to her room. 
	Unfortunately, there was no rain the next 
	morning so Ramona left her new boots at 
	118 
	home and trip-trapped to school, where she 
	did not have much chance of catching Davy 
	because he could run faster than she could 
	trip-trap in her stiff new shoes. She triptrapped to her seat, and later, because she 
	was art monitor who got to pass out drawing paper, she trip-trapped to the supply 
	cupboard and trip-trapped up and down the 
	aisles passing out paper. 
	“Ramona, I would like it if you walked 
	quietly,” said Miss Binney. 
	“I am the littlest Billy Goat Gruff,” 
	explained Ramona. “I have to trip-trap.” 
	“You may trip-trap when we go outdoors.” Miss Binney’s voice was firm. “You 
	may not trip-trap in the classroom.” 
	At playtime the whole class turned into 
	Billy Goats Gruff and trip-trapped around 
	the playground, but none so joyfully or so 
	noisily as Ramona. The gathering clouds, 
	Ramona noticed, were dark and threatening. 
	119 
	Sure enough, that evening rain began to 
	fall, and all night long it beat against the 
	south side of the Quimbys’ house. The next 
	morning Ramona, in her boots and raincoat, 
	was out long before Howie arrived to walk 
	to school with her. She waded through the 
	wet lawn, and her boots became even shinier 
	when they were wet. She stamped in all the 
	little puddles on the driveway. She stood in 
	the gutter and let muddy water run over the 
	toes of her beautiful new boots. She gathered 
	wet leaves to dam the gutter so she could 
	stand in deeper water. Howie, as she might 
	have expected, was used to his boots and not 
	a bit excited. He did enjoy stamping in puddles, however, and together they stamped and 
	splashed on the way to school. 
	Ramona came to a halt at the intersection guarded by Henry Huggins in his yellow 
	slicker, rain hat, and brown boots. “Look at 
	all that nice mud,” she said, pointing to the 
	120 
	area that was to be the parking lot for the 
	new market. It was such nice mud, rich and 
	brown with puddles and little rivers in the 
	tire tracks left by the construction trucks. It 
	was the best mud, the muddiest mud, the 
	most tempting mud Ramona had ever seen. 
	Best of all, the day was so rainy there were 
	no construction workers around to tell anyone to stay out of the mud. 
	“Come on, Howie,” said Ramona. “I’m 
	going to see how my boots work in the 
	mud.” Of course, she would get her shiny 
	boots muddy, but then she could have the 
	fun of turning the hose on them that afternoon after kindergarten. 
	Howie was already following Henry 
	across the street. 
	When Henry executed his sharp aboutface on the opposite curb, he saw that 
	Ramona had been left behind. “You were 
	supposed to cross with me,” he told her. 
	121 
	“Now you have to wait until some more 
	kids come.” 
	“I don’t care,” said Ramona happily, and 
	marched off to the muddy mud. 
	“Ramona, you come back here!” yelled 
	Henry. “You’re going to get into trouble.” 
	“Traffic boys aren’t supposed to talk on 
	duty,” Ramona reminded him, and marched 
	straight into the mud. Surprisingly her feet 
	started to slide out from under her. She had 
	not realized that mud was so slippery. 
	Managing to regain her balance, she set each 
	boot down slowly and carefully before she 
	pulled her other boot from the sucking mud. 
	She waved happily to Henry, who seemed to 
	be going through some sort of struggle within 
	himself. He kept opening his mouth, as if he 
	wanted to say something, and then closing it 
	again. Ramona also waved at the members of 
	the morning kindergarten, who were watching her through the playground fence. 
	122 
	More mud clung to her boots with each 
	step. “Look at my elephant feet!” she called 
	out. Her boots were becoming heavier and 
	heavier. 
	Henry gave up his struggle.“You’re going 
	to get stuck!” he yelled. 
	“No, I’m not!” insisted Ramona, and discovered she was unable to raise her right 
	boot. She tried to raise her left boot, but it 
	was stuck fast. She grasped the top of one of 
	her boots with both hands and tried to lift 
	her foot, but she could not budge it. She 
	tried to lift the other foot, but she could not 
	budge it either. Henry was right. Miss Binney 
	was not going to like what had happened, 
	but Ramona was stuck. 
	“I told you so!” yelled Henry against the 
	traffic rules. 
	Ramona was becoming warmer and 
	warmer inside her raincoat. She pulled and 
	lifted. She could raise her feet, one at a time, 
	123 
	inside her boots, but no matter how she 
	tugged and yanked with her hands she could 
	not lift her precious boots from the mud. 
	Ramona grew warmer and warmer. She 
	could never get out of this mud. Kindergarten 
	would start without her, and she would be 
	left all alone in the mud. Miss Binney would 
	not like her being out here in the mud, 
	when she was supposed to be inside singing 
	the dawnzer song and doing seat work. 
	Ramona’s chin began to quiver. 
	“Look at Ramona! Look at Ramona!” 
	shrieked the kindergarten, as Miss Binney, in 
	a raincoat and with a plastic hood over her 
	hair, appeared on the playground. 
	“Oh dear!” Ramona heard Miss Binney 
	say. 
	Drivers of cars paused to stare and smile 
	as tears mingled with the rain on Ramona’s 
	cheeks. Miss Binney came splashing across 
	the street. “My goodness, Ramona, how are 
	124 
	we going to get you out?” 
	“I d-don’t know,” sobbed Ramona. Miss 
	Binney could not get stuck in the mud, too. 
	The morning kindergarten needed her. 
	A man called out from a car, “What you 
	need is a few boards.” 
	“Boards would only sink into the muck,” 
	said a passerby on the sidewalk. 
	The first bell rang. Ramona sobbed 
	harder. Now Miss Binney would have to go 
	into school and leave her out here alone in 
	the mud and the rain and the cold. By now 
	some of the older boys and girls were staring 
	at her from the windows of the big school. 
	“Now don’t worry, Ramona,” said Miss 
	Binney. “We’ll get you out somehow.” 
	Ramona, who wanted to be helpful, knew 
	what happened when a car was stuck in the 
	mud. “Could you call a t-tow t-truck?” she 
	asked with a big sniff. She could see herself 
	being yanked out of the mud by a heavy 
	125 
	chain hooked on the collar of her raincoat. 
	She found this picture so interesting that her 
	sobs subsided, and she waited hopefully for 
	Miss Binney’s answer. 
	The second bell rang. Miss Binney was 
	not looking at Ramona. She was looking 
	thoughtfully at Henry Huggins, who seemed 
	to be staring at something way off in the 
	distance. The traffic sergeant blew his whistle summoning the traffic boys to return 
	from their posts to school. 
	“Boy!” Miss Binney called out. “Traffic 
	boy!” 
	“Who? Me?” asked Henry, even though 
	he was the only traffic boy stationed at that 
	intersection. 
	“That’s Henry Huggins,” said helpful 
	Ramona. 
	“Henry, come here, please,” said Miss 
	Binney. 
	“I’m supposed to go in when the whistle 
	126 
	blows,” said Henry, as he glanced up at the 
	boys and girls who were watching from the 
	big brick building. 
	“But this is an emergency,” Miss Binney 
	pointed out.“You have boots on, and I need 
	your help in getting this little girl out of the 
	mud. I’ll explain to the principal.” 
	Henry did not seem very enthusiastic as 
	he splashed across the street, and when he 
	came to the mud he heaved a big sigh before 
	he stepped into it. Carefully he picked his 
	way through the muck and the puddles to 
	Ramona. “Now see what you got me into,” 
	he said crossly. “I told you to keep out of 
	here.” 
	For once Ramona had nothing to say. 
	Henry was right. 
	“I guess I’ll have to carry you,” he said, 
	and his tone was grudging. “Hang on.” He 
	stooped and grasped Ramona around the 
	waist, and she obediently put her arms around 
	127 
	the wet collar of his raincoat. Henry was big 
	and strong. Then, to Ramona’s horror, she 
	found herself being lifted right out of her 
	beautiful new boots. 
	“My boots!” she wailed. “You’re leaving 
	my boots!” 
	Henry slipped, slid, and in spite of 
	Ramona’s weight regained his balance.“You 
	keep quiet,” he ordered. “I’m getting you 
	out of here, aren’t I? Do you want us both 
	to land in the mud?” 
	Ramona hung on and said no more. 
	Henry lurched and skidded through the 
	mud to the sidewalk, where he set his burden 
	down in front of Miss Binney. 
	“Yea!” yelled some big boys who had 
	opened a window. “Yea, Henry!” Henry 
	scowled in their direction. 
	“Thank you, Henry,” said Miss Binney 
	with real gratitude, as Henry tried to scrape 
	the mud from his boots on the edge of the 
	128 
	
	curb. “What do you say, Ramona?” 
	“My boots,” said Ramona. “He left my 
	new boots in the mud!” How lonely they 
	looked, two bright spots of red in all that 
	129 
	mud. She could not leave her boots behind, 
	not when she had waited so long to get 
	them. Somebody might take them, and she 
	would have to go back to shoving her feet 
	into Howie’s ugly old boots. 
	“Don’t worry, Ramona,” said Miss Binney, 
	looking anxiously toward the rest of her 
	morning kindergarten growing wetter by 
	the minute as they watched through the 
	fence. “Nobody is going to take your boots 
	on a day like this.We’ll get them back when 
	it stops raining and the ground dries off.” 
	“But they’ll fill up with rain without my 
	feet in them,” protested Ramona. “The rain 
	will spoil them.” 
	Miss Binney was sympathetic but firm.“I 
	know how you feel, but I’m afraid there isn’t 
	anything we can do about it.” 
	Miss Binney’s words were too much for 
	Ramona. After all the times she had been 
	forced to wear Howie’s ugly old brown boots 
	130 
	she could not leave her beautiful new red 
	boots out in the mud to fill up with rainwater. “I want my boots,” she howled, and 
	began to cry again. 
	“Oh, all right,” said Henry crossly.“I’ll get 
	your old boots. Don’t start crying again.” 
	And heaving another gusty sigh, he waded 
	back out into the empty lot, yanked the boots 
	out of the mud, and waded back to the sidewalk, where he dropped them at Ramona’s 
	feet. “There,” he said, looking at the mudcovered objects with dislike. 
	Ramona expected him to add, I hope 
	you’re satisfied, but he did not. He just started 
	across the street to school. 
	“Thank you, Henry,” Ramona called after 
	him without being reminded. There was 
	something very special about being rescued 
	by a big, strong traffic boy in a yellow slicker. 
	Miss Binney picked up the muddy boots, 
	and said, “What beautiful red boots. We’ll 
	131 
	wash off the mud in the sink, and they’ll be 
	as good as new. And now we must hurry 
	back to the kindergarten.” 
	Ramona smiled at Miss Binney, who was 
	again, she decided, the nicest, most understanding teacher in the world. Not once had 
	Miss Binney scolded or made any tiresome 
	remarks about why on earth did Ramona 
	have to do such a thing. Not once had Miss 
	Binney said she should know better. 
	Then something on the sidewalk caught 
	Ramona’s eye. It was a pink worm that still 
	had some wiggle left in it. She picked it up 
	and wound it around her finger as she looked 
	toward Henry. “I’m going to marry you, 
	Henry Huggins!” she called out. 
	Even though traffic boys were supposed 
	to stand up straight, Henry seemed to hunch 
	down inside his raincoat as if he were trying 
	to disappear. 
	“I’ve got an engagement ring, and I’m 
	132 
	going to marry you!” yelled Ramona after 
	Henry, as the morning kindergarten laughed 
	and cheered. 
	“Yea, Henry!” yelled the big boys, before 
	their teacher shut the window. 
	As she followed Miss Binney across the 
	street Ramona heard Davy’s joyful shout. 
	“Boy, I’m glad it isn’t me!” 
	133 
	6 
	The Baddest Witch 
	in the World 
	When the morning kindergarten cut 
	jack-o’-lanterns from orange paper 
	and pasted them on the windows so that 
	the light shone through the eye and mouth 
	holes, Ramona knew that at last Halloween 
	was not far away. Next to Christmas and her 
	birthday, Ramona liked Halloween best. 
	She liked dressing up and going trick-ortreating after dark with Beezus. She liked 
	134 
	those nights when the bare branches of trees 
	waved against the streetlights, and the world 
	was a ghostly place. Ramona liked scaring 
	people, and she liked the shivery feeling of 
	being scared herself. 
	Ramona had always enjoyed going to 
	school with her mother to watch the boys 
	and girls of Glenwood School parade on the 
	playground in their Halloween costumes. 
	Afterward she used to eat a doughnut and 
	drink a paper cup of apple juice if there 
	happened to be some left over. This year, 
	after years of sitting on the benches with 
	mothers and little brothers and sisters, 
	Ramona was finally going to get to wear a 
	costume and march around and around the 
	playground. This year she had a doughnut 
	and apple juice coming to her. 
	“Mama, did you buy my mask?” Ramona 
	asked every day, when she came home from 
	school. 
	135 
	“Not today, dear,” Mrs. Quimby answered. 
	“Don’t pester. I’ll get it the next time I go 
	down to the shopping center.” 
	Ramona, who did not mean to pester her 
	mother, could not see why grown-ups had 
	to be so slow. “Make it a bad mask, Mama,” 
	she said. “I want to be the baddest witch in 
	the whole world.” 
	“You mean the worst witch,” Beezus said, 
	whenever she happened to overhear this 
	conversation. 
	“I do not,” contradicted Ramona. “I 
	mean the baddest witch.” “Baddest witch” 
	sounded much scarier than “worst witch,” 
	and Ramona did enjoy stories about bad 
	witches, the badder the better. She had no 
	patience with books about good witches, 
	because witches were supposed to be bad. 
	Ramona had chosen to be a witch for that 
	very reason. 
	Then one day when Ramona came home 
	136 
	from school she found two paper bags on 
	the foot of her bed. One contained black 
	material and a pattern for a witch costume. 
	The picture on the pattern showed the 
	witch’s hat pointed like the letter A. Ramona 
	reached into the second bag and pulled out 
	a rubber witch mask so scary that she quickly 
	dropped it on the bed because she was not 
	sure she even wanted to touch it.The flabby 
	thing was the grayish-green color of mold 
	and had stringy hair, a hooked nose, snaggle 
	teeth, and a wart on its nose. Its empty eyes 
	seemed to stare at Ramona with a look of 
	evil. The face was so ghastly that Ramona 
	had to remind herself that it was only a 
	rubber mask from the dime store before 
	she could summon enough courage to pick 
	it up and slip it over her head. 
	Ramona peeked cautiously in the mirror, 
	backed away, and then gathered her courage 
	for a longer look. That’s really me in there, 
	137 
	
	she told herself and felt better. She ran off to 
	show her mother and discovered that she 
	felt very brave when she was inside the mask 
	and did not have to look at it.“I’m the baddest witch in the world!” she shouted, her 
	voice muffled by the mask, and was delighted 
	when her mother was so frightened she 
	dropped her sewing. 
	Ramona waited for Beezus and her father 
	to come home, so she could put on her mask 
	and jump out and scare them. But that 
	night, before she went to bed, she rolled up 
	the mask and hid it behind a cushion of the 
	couch in the living room. 
	“What are you doing that for?” asked 
	Beezus, who had nothing to be afraid of. She 
	was planning to be a princess and wear a 
	narrow pink mask. 
	“Because I want to,” answered Ramona, 
	who did not care to sleep in the same room 
	with that ghastly, leering face. 
	Afterward when Ramona wanted to 
	frighten herself she would lift the cushion 
	for a quick glimpse of her scary mask before 
	she clapped the pillow over it again. Scaring 
	herself was such fun. 
	When Ramona’s costume was finished 
	and the day of the Halloween parade arrived, 
	the morning kindergarten had trouble sitting 
	139 
	still for seat work. They wiggled so much 
	while resting on their mats that Miss Binney 
	had to wait a long time before she found 
	someone quiet enough to be the wake-up 
	fairy. When kindergarten was finally dismissed, the whole class forgot the rules and 
	went stampeding out the door. At home 
	Ramona ate only the soft part of her tunafish sandwich, because her mother insisted 
	she could not go to the Halloween parade 
	on an empty stomach. She wadded the crusts 
	into her paper napkin and hid them beneath 
	the edge of her plate before she ran to her 
	room to put on her long black dress, her cape, 
	her mask, and her pointed witch hat held on 
	by an elastic under her chin. Ramona had 
	doubts about that elastic—none of the 
	witches whom she met in books seemed to 
	have elastic under their chin—but today she 
	was too happy and excited to bother to 
	make a fuss. 
	140 
	“See, 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.” 
	“Come 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. 
	“I told Howie’s mother we would wait 
	for them,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Mama, 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, 
	141 
	
	“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. 
	“I’m the baddest witch in the world,” 
	Ramona informed him,“and you can be my 
	cat.” 
	“I don’t want to be your cat,” said Howie. 
	“I don’t want to be a cat at all.” 
	“Why not, Howie?” asked Mrs. Quimby, 
	who had joined Ramona and the Kemps.“I 
	think you make a very nice cat.” 
	“My 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 older 
	143 
	sister 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.” 
	“You have a handsome set of whiskers,” 
	said Mrs. Quimby, trying to coax Howie to 
	look on the bright side. 
	144 
	“Scotch 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 play145 
	
	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 
	she would turn around and chase the witches 
	right back. She tried to chase Howie, but he 
	would not run. He just stood beside the fence 

	holding his broken tail and missing all the fun. 
	Ramona discovered dear little Davy in a 
	skimpy pirate costume from the dime store. 
	She could tell he was Davy by his thin legs. 
	At last! She pounced and kissed him through 
	her rubber mask. Davy looked startled, but 
	he had the presence of mind to make a gagging noise while Ramona raced away, satisfied that she finally had managed to catch 
	and kiss Davy. 
	Then Ramona saw Susan getting out of 
	her mother’s car. As she might have guessed, 
	Susan was dressed as an old-fashioned girl 
	with a long skirt, an apron, and pantalettes. 
	“I’m the baddest witch in the world!” yelled 
	Ramona, and ran after Susan, whose curls 
	bobbed daintily about her shoulders in a 
	way that could not be disguised. Ramona 
	was unable to resist. After weeks of longing 
	she tweaked one of Susan’s curls, and yelled, 
	“Boing!” through her rubber mask. 
	“You stop that,” said Susan, and smoothed 
	her curls. 
	“Yah! Yah! I’m the baddest witch in the 
	world!” Ramona was carried away. She 
	tweaked another curl and yelled a muffled, 
	“Boing!” 
	A clown laughed and joined Ramona. 
	He too tweaked a curl and yelled, “Boing!” 
	The old-fashioned girl stamped her foot. 
	“You stop that!” she said angrily. 
	“Boing! Boing!” Others joined the game. 
	148 
	Susan tried to run away, but no matter 
	which way she ran there was someone eager 
	to stretch a curl and yell, “Boing!” Susan ran 
	to Miss Binney. “Miss Binney! Miss Binney!” 
	she cried. “They’re teasing me! They’re 
	pulling my hair and boinging me!” 
	“Who’s teasing you?” asked Miss Binney. 
	“Everybody,” said Susan tearfully. “A 
	witch started it.” 
	“Which witch?” asked Miss Binney. 
	Susan looked around. “I don’t know which 
	witch,” she said, “but it was a bad witch.” 
	That’s me, the baddest witch in the world, 
	thought Ramona. At the same time she was 
	a little surprised. That others really would 
	not know that she was behind her mask had 
	never occurred to her. 
	“Never mind, Susan,” said Miss Binney. 
	“You stay near me, and no one will tease 
	you.” 
	Which witch, thought Ramona, liking 
	149 
	the sound of the words.Which witch, which 
	witch. As the words ran through her 
	thoughts Ramona began to wonder if Miss 
	Binney could guess who she was. She ran up 
	to her teacher and shouted in her muffled 
	voice,“Hello, Miss Binney! I’m going to get 
	you, Miss Binney!” 
	“Ooh, what a scary witch!” said Miss 
	Binney, rather absentmindedly, Ramona 
	thought. Plainly Miss Binney was not really 
	frightened, and with so many witches running around she had not recognized Ramona. 
	No, Miss Binney was not the one who was 
	frightened. Ramona was. Miss Binney did 
	not know who this witch was. Nobody knew 
	who Ramona was, and if nobody knew who 
	she was, she wasn’t anybody. 
	“Get out of the way, old witch!” Eric R. 
	yelled at Ramona. He did not say, Get out of 
	the way, Ramona. 
	Ramona could not remember a time 
	150 
	when there was not someone near who 
	knew who she was. Even last Halloween, 
	when she dressed up as a ghost and went 
	trick-or-treating with Beezus and the older 
	boys and girls, everyone seemed to know who 
	she was. “I can guess who this little ghost is,” 
	the neighbors said, as they dropped a miniature candy bar or a handful of peanuts into 
	her paper bag. And now, with so many 
	witches running around and still more 
	witches on the big playground, no one knew 
	who she was. 
	“Davy, guess who I am!” yelled Ramona. 
	Surely Davy would know. 
	“You’re just another old witch,” answered 
	Davy. 
	The feeling was the scariest one Ramona 
	had ever experienced. She felt lost inside 
	her costume. She wondered if her mother 
	would know which witch was which, and 
	the thought that her own mother might not 
	151 
	
	know her frightened Ramona even more. 
	What if her mother forgot her? What if 
	everyone in the whole world forgot her? 
	With that terrifying thought Ramona 
	snatched off her mask, and although its ugliness was no longer the most frightening 
	thing about it, she rolled it up so she would 
	not have to look at it. 
	152 
	How cool the air felt outside that dreadful mask! Ramona no longer wanted to be 
	the baddest witch in the world. She wanted 
	to be Ramona Geraldine Quimby and be 
	sure that Miss Binney and everyone on the 
	playground knew her. Around her the ghosts 
	and tramps and pirates raced and shouted, 
	but Ramona stood near the door of the 
	kindergarten quietly watching. 
	Davy raced up to her and yelled. “Yah! 
	You can’t catch me!” 
	“I don’t want to catch you,” Ramona 
	informed him. 
	Davy looked surprised and a little disappointed, but he ran off on his thin little legs, 
	shouting, “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!” 
	Joey yelled after him, “You’re not really a 
	pirate.You’re just Mush Pot Davy!” 
	Miss Binney was trying to herd her sixtyeight charges into a double line.Two mothers 
	who felt sorry for the teacher were helping 
	153 
	round up the kindergarten to start the 
	Halloween parade, but as always there were 
	some children who would rather run around 
	than do what they were supposed to do. For 
	once Ramona was not one of them. On the 
	big playground someone started to play a 
	marching record through a loudspeaker. 
	The Halloween parade that Ramona had 
	looked forward to since she was in nursery 
	school was about to begin. 
	“Come along, children,” said Miss Binney. 
	Seeing Ramona standing alone, she said, 
	“Come on, Ramona.” 
	It was a great relief to Ramona to hear 
	Miss Binney speak her name, to hear her 
	teacher say “Ramona” when she was looking at her. But as much as Ramona longed 
	to prance along to the marching music with 
	the rest of her class, she did not move to join 
	them. 
	“Put on your mask, Ramona, and get in 
	154 
	line,” said Miss Binney, guiding a ghost and 
	a gypsy into place. 
	Ramona wanted to obey her teacher, but 
	at the same time she was afraid of losing 
	herself behind that scary mask. The line of 
	kindergarteners, all of them wearing masks 
	except Howie with his pipe-cleaner whiskers, 
	was less straggly now, and everyone was eager 
	to start the parade. If Ramona did not do 
	something quickly she would be left behind, 
	and she could not let such a thing happen, 
	not when she had waited so many years to 
	be in a Halloween parade. 
	Ramona took only a moment to decide 
	what to do. She ran to her cupboard inside 
	the kindergarten building and snatched a 
	crayon from her box. Then she grabbed a 
	piece of paper from the supply cupboard. 
	Outside she could hear the many feet of 
	the morning and afternoon kindergartens 
	marching off to the big playground. There 
	155 
	
	was no time for Ramona’s best printing, but 
	that was all right.This job was not seat work 
	to be supervised by Miss Binney. As fast as 
	she could Ramona printed her name, and 
	then she could not resist adding with a 
	flourish her last initial complete with ears 
	and whiskers. 
	Now the whole world would know who 
	she was! She was Ramona Quimby, the only 
	girl in the world with ears and whiskers on 
	her last initial. Ramona pulled on her rubber 
	mask, clapped her pointed hat on top of it, 
	snapped the elastic under her chin, and ran 
	after her class as it marched onto the big 
	playground. She did not care if she was last 
	in line and had to march beside gloomy old 
	Howie still lugging his broken tail. 
	Around the playground marched the 
	kindergarten followed by the first grade and 
	156 
	all the other grades while mothers and little 
	brothers and sisters watched. Ramona felt 
	very grown up remembering how last year 
	she had been a little sister sitting on a bench 
	watching for her big sister Beezus to march 
	by and hoping for a leftover doughnut. 
	“Yah! Yah! I’m the baddest witch in the 
	world!” Ramona chanted, as she held up her 
	sign for all to see. Around the playground 
	she marched toward her mother, who was 
	waiting on the bench. Her mother saw her, 
	pointed her out to Mrs. Kemp, and waved. 
	Ramona beamed inside her stuffy mask. Her 
	mother recognized her! 
	Poor little Willa Jean in her stroller could 
	not read, so Ramona called out to her,“It’s 
	me, Willa Jean. I’m Ramona, the baddest 
	witch in the world!” 
	Willa Jean in her rabbit mask understood. 
	She laughed and slapped her hands on the 
	tray of her stroller. 
	157 
	Ramona saw Henry’s dog Ribsy trotting 
	along, supervising the parade. “Yah! Ribsy! 
	I’m going to get you, Ribsy!” she threatened, as she marched past. 
	Ribsy gave a short bark, and Ramona was 
	sure that even Ribsy knew who she was as 
	she marched off to collect her doughnut and 
	apple juice. 
	158 
	7 
	The Day Things 
	Went Wrong 
	Ramona’s day was off to a promising start 
	for two reasons, both of which proved 
	she was growing up. First of all, she had a 
	loose tooth, a very loose tooth, a tooth that 
	waggled back and forth with only a little 
	help from her tongue. It was probably the 
	loosest tooth in the morning kindergarten, 
	which meant that the tooth fairy would 
	finally pay a visit to Ramona before long. 
	159 
	Ramona had her suspicions about the 
	tooth fairy. She had seen Beezus search under 
	her pillow in the morning, after losing a 
	tooth, and then call out,“Daddy, my tooth is 
	still here.The tooth fairy forgot to come!” 
	“That’s funny,” Mr. Quimby would answer. 
	“Are you sure?” 
	“Positive. I looked everyplace for the 
	dime.” 
	“Let me look,” was always Mr. Quimby’s 
	suggestion. Somehow he could always find 
	the tooth fairy’s dime when Beezus could 
	not. 
	Now Ramona’s turn would soon come. 
	She planned to stay awake and trap the 
	tooth fairy to make sure it really was her 
	father. 
	Not only did Ramona have a loose tooth 
	to make her feel that she was finally beginning to grow up, she was going to get to 
	walk to school all by herself. At last! Howie 
	160 
	was home with a cold, and her mother had 
	to drive Beezus downtown for an early 
	dental appointment. 
	“Now Ramona,” said Mrs. Quimby, as 
	she put on her coat,“I’m going to trust you 
	to stay all by yourself for a little while before 
	you start to school. Do you think you can be 
	a good girl?” 
	“Of course, Mama,” said Ramona, who 
	felt that she was always a good girl. 
	“Now be sure you watch the clock,” said 
	Mrs. Quimby,“and leave for school at exactly 
	quarter past eight.” 
	“Yes, Mama.” 
	“And look both ways before you cross 
	the street.” 
	“Yes, Mama.” 
	Mrs. Quimby kissed Ramona good-by. 
	“And be sure to close the door behind you 
	when you leave.” 
	“Yes, Mama,” was Ramona’s tolerant 
	161 
	answer. She could not see why her mother 
	was anxious. 
	When Mrs. Quimby and Beezus had 
	gone, Ramona sat down at the kitchen table 
	to wiggle her tooth and watch the clock. 
	The little hand was at eight, and the big 
	hand was at one. Ramona wiggled her tooth 
	with her finger. Then she wiggled it with 
	her tongue, back and forth, back and forth. 
	The big hand crept to two. Ramona took 
	hold of her tooth with her fingers, but as 
	much as she longed to surprise her mother 
	with an empty space in her mouth, actually 
	pulling the tooth was too scary. She went 
	back to wiggling. 
	The big hand moved slowly to three. 
	Ramona continued to sit on the chair wiggling her tooth and being a very good girl 
	as she had promised. The big hand crawled 
	along to four.When it reached five, Ramona 
	knew that it would be quarter after eight and 
	162 
	
	time to go to school. A quarter was twentyfive cents.Therefore, a quarter past eight was 
	twenty-five minutes after eight. She had figured the answer out all by herself. 
	163 
	At last the big hand crawled to five. 
	Ramona slid off the chair and slammed the 
	door behind her as she started off to school 
	alone. So far, so good, but as soon as Ramona 
	reached the sidewalk, she realized that something was wrong. In a moment she understood what it was. The street was too quiet. 
	No one else was walking to school. Ramona 
	stopped in confusion. Maybe she was mixed 
	up. Maybe today was really Saturday. Maybe 
	her mother forgot to look at the calendar. 
	No, it could not be Saturday because yesterday was Sunday. Besides, there was Henry 
	Huggins’s dog Ribsy, trotting along the street 
	on his way home from escorting Henry to 
	school.Today really was a school day, because 
	Ribsy followed Henry to school every morning. Maybe the clock was wrong. In a panic 
	Ramona began to run. Miss Binney would 
	not want her to be late for school. She did 
	manage to slow down and look both ways 
	164 
	before she walked across the streets, but when 
	she saw that Henry was not guarding his 
	usual intersection, she knew that the traffic 
	boys had gone in and she was even later than 
	she had thought. She ran across the kindergarten playground, and then stopped. The 
	door of the kindergarten was shut. Miss 
	Binney had started school without her. 
	Ramona stood puffing a moment trying 
	to catch her breath. Of course, she could not 
	expect Miss Binney to wait for her when 
	she was late, but she could not help wishing 
	that her teacher had missed her so much 
	she had said, “Class, let’s wait for Ramona. 
	Kindergarten isn’t any fun without Ramona.” 
	When Ramona caught her breath, she 
	knew what she should do. She knocked and 
	waited for the door monitor to open the 
	door. The monitor turned out to be Susan, 
	who said accusingly, “You’re late.” 
	“Never mind, Susan,” said Miss Binney, 
	165 
	who was standing in front of the class holding up a brown paper sack with a big T 
	printed on it. “What happened, Ramona?” 
	“I don’t know,” Ramona was forced to 
	admit. “I left at a quarter after eight like my 
	mother told me.” 
	Miss Binney smiled, and said, “Next time 
	try to walk a little faster,” before she continued where she had left off. “Now who can 
	guess what I have in this bag with the letter 
	T printed on it? Remember, it is something 
	that begins with T. Who can tell me how T 
	sounds?” 
	“T-t-t-t-t,” ticked the kindergarten. 
	“Good,” said Miss Binney.“Davy, what do 
	you think is in the b ag?” Miss Binney was 
	inclined to bear down on the first letters of 
	words now that the class was working on 
	the sounds letters make. 
	“’Taterpillars?” said Davy hopefully. He 
	rarely got anything right, but he kept trying. 
	166 
	“No, Davy. C aterpillar begins with C. 
	C-c-c-c-c. What I have in the b ag begins 
	with T. T-t-t-t-t.” 
	Davy was crestfallen. He had been so sure 
	caterpillar began with T. 
	T-t-t-t-t.The class ticked quietly while it 
	thought. “TV?” someone suggested. TV 
	began with T, but was not in the bag. 
	“T-t-t-t-tadpoles?” Wrong. 
	“Teeter-totter?” Wrong again. How could 
	anyone have a teeter-totter in a paper bag? 
	T-t-t-t-t, Ramona ticked to herself as she 
	wiggled her tooth with her fingers.“Tooth?” 
	she suggested. 
	“T ooth is a good T word, Ramona,” said 
	Miss Binney,“but it is not what I have in the 
	b ag.” 
	Ramona was so pleased by Miss Binney’s 
	compliment that she wiggled her tooth even 
	harder and suddenly found it in her hand. 
	A strange taste filled her mouth. Ramona 
	167 
	
	stared at her little tooth and was astonished 
	to discover that one end was bloody. “Miss 
	Binney!” she cried without raising her hand. 
	“My tooth came out!” 
	Someone had lost a tooth! The kindergarten began to crowd around Ramona. 
	“Seats, please, boys and girls,” said Miss 
	Binney. “Ramona, you may go rinse your 
	mouth, and then you may show us your 
	t ooth.” 
	Ramona did as she was told, and when 
	she held up her tooth for all to admire, Miss 
	Binney said, “T ooth. T-t-t-t-t.” When 
	Ramona pulled down her lip to show the 
	hole where her tooth had been, Miss Binney 
	did not say anything because the class was 
	working on T and hole did not begin with 
	T. It turned out that Miss Binney had a 
	t-t-t-t-tiger, stuffed, of course, in the b ag. 
	Before the class started seat work, Ramona 
	went to her teacher with her precious bloody 
	169 
	tooth, and asked, “Would you keep this for 
	me?” Ramona wanted to be sure she did not 
	lose her tooth, because she needed it for bait 
	to catch the tooth fairy. She planned to pile 
	a lot of clattery things like sauce pans and pie 
	tins and old broken toys beside her bed so 
	the tooth fairy would trip and wake her up. 
	Miss Binney smiled as she opened a drawer 
	of her desk. “Your first t ooth! Of course, I’ll 
	keep it safe so you can take it home for the 
	t ooth f airy.You’re a brave girl.” 
	Ramona loved Miss Binney for understanding. She loved Miss Binney for not 
	being cross when she was late for school. 
	She loved Miss Binney for telling her she 
	was a brave girl. 
	Ramona was so happy that the morning 
	went quickly. Seat work was unusually interesting. The kindergarten now had sheets of 
	pictures, three to a row, printed in purple 
	ink by a ditto machine. One row showed a 
	170 
	top, a girl, and a toe. The kindergarten was 
	supposed to circle the top and the toe, because 
	they both began with T, and cross out the 
	girl, because girl began with a different sound. 
	Ramona dearly loved to circle and cross out, 
	and was sorry when recess time came. 
	“Want to see where my tooth was?” 
	Ramona asked Eric J., when the class had 
	finished with T for the day and had gone 
	out to the playground. She opened her 
	mouth and pulled down her lower lip. 
	Eric J. was filled with admiration.“Where 
	your tooth was is all bloody,” he told her. 
	The glory of losing a tooth! Ramona ran 
	over to Susan.“Want to see where my tooth 
	was?” she asked. 
	“No,” said Susan,“and I’m glad you were 
	late, because I got to open the door my very 
	first day as door monitor.” 
	Ramona was indignant that Susan had 
	refused to admire the bloody hole in her 
	171 
	mouth. No one else bravely had lost a tooth 
	during kindergarten. Ramona seized one of 
	Susan’s curls, and, careful not to pull hard 
	enough to hurt Susan, she stretched it out 
	and let it spring back. “Boing!” she cried and 
	ran off, circling the jungle gym and coming 
	back to Susan, who was about to climb the 
	steps to the traveling bars. She stretched 
	another curl and yelled, “Boing!” 
	“Ramona Quimby!” shrieked Susan. 
	“You stop boinging me!” 
	Ramona was filled with the glory of losing 
	her first tooth and love for her teacher. Miss 
	Binney had said she was brave! This day 
	was the most wonderful day in the world! 
	The sun shone, the sky was blue, and Miss 
	Binney loved her. Ramona flung out her 
	arms and circled the jungle gym once more 
	on feet light with joy. She swooped toward 
	Susan, stretched a curl, and uttered a long 
	drawn-out, “Boi-i-ing!” 
	172 
	
	“Miss Binney!” cried Susan on the verge 
	of tears. “Ramona is boinging me, and I bet 
	she was the witch who boinged me at the 
	Halloween parade!” 
	Tattletale, thought Ramona scornfully, as 
	she circled the jungle gym on feet of joy. 
	Circle Ramona, cross out Susan! 
	“Ramona,” said Miss Binney, as Ramona 
	flew past.“Come here. I want to talk to you.” 
	173 
	Ramona turned back and looked expectantly at her teacher. 
	“Ramona, you must stop pulling Susan’s 
	hair,” said Miss Binney. 
	“Yes, Miss Binney,” said Ramona, and 
	skipped off to the traveling bars. 
	Ramona intended to stop pulling Susan’s 
	curls, she truly did, but unfortunately Susan 
	would not cooperate.When recess was over 
	and the class was filing back into the room, 
	Susan turned to Ramona, and said, “You’re 
	a big pest.” 
	Susan could not have chosen a word that 
	Ramona would resent more. Beezus was 
	always saying she was a pest. The big boys 
	and girls on Ramona’s street called her a 
	pest, but Ramona did not consider herself 
	a pest. People who called her a pest did not 
	understand that a littler person sometimes 
	had to be a little bit noisier and a little bit 
	more stubborn in order to be noticed at all. 
	174 
	Ramona had to put up with being called a 
	pest by older boys and girls, but she did not 
	have to put up with being called a pest by a 
	girl her own age. 
	“I’m not a pest,” said Ramona indignantly, 
	and to get even she stretched one of Susan’s 
	curls and whispered, “Boing!” 
	Ramona’s luck was bad, however, for Miss 
	Binney happened to be watching. “Come 
	here, Ramona,” said her teacher. 
	Ramona had a terrible feeling that this 
	time Miss Binney was not going to understand. 
	“Ramona, I’m disappointed in you.” Miss 
	Binney’s voice was serious. 
	Ramona had never seen her teacher look 
	so serious. “Susan called me a pest,” she said 
	in a small voice. 
	“That is no excuse for pulling hair,” said 
	Miss Binney. “I told you to stop pulling 
	Susan’s hair, and I meant it. If you cannot 
	175 
	stop pulling Susan’s hair, you will have to go 
	home and stay there until you can.” 
	Ramona was shocked. Miss Binney did 
	not love her anymore.The class was suddenly 
	quiet, and Ramona could almost feel their 
	stares against her back as she stood there 
	looking at the floor. 
	“Do you think you can stop pulling 
	Susan’s hair?” asked Miss Binney. 
	Ramona thought. Could she really stop 
	pulling Susan’s curls? She thought about those 
	thick, springy locks that were so tempting. 
	She thought about Susan, who always acted 
	big. In kindergarten there was no worse crime 
	than acting big. In the eyes of the children, 
	acting big was worse than being a pest. 
	Ramona finally looked up at Miss Binney and 
	gave her an honest answer. “No,” she said. “I 
	can’t.” 
	Miss Binney looked a little surprised.“Very 
	well, Ramona.You will have to go home and 
	176 
	
	stay there until you can make up your mind 
	not to pull Susan’s curls.” 
	“Now?” asked Ramona in a small voice. 
	“You may sit outside on the bench until 
	it’s time to go home,” said Miss Binney.“I’m 
	sorry, Ramona, but we cannot have a hair 
	puller in our kindergarten.” 
	No one said a word as Ramona turned 
	and walked out of the kindergarten and sat 
	down on the bench.The little children next 
	door stared at her through the fence. The 
	workmen across the street looked at her in 
	amusement. Ramona gave a long shuddering sigh, but she just managed to hold back 
	the tears. Nobody was going to see Ramona 
	Quimby acting like a baby. 
	“That girl has been bad again,” Ramona 
	heard the four-year-old next door say to her 
	little sister. 
	When the bell rang, Miss Binney opened 
	the door to see her class out, and said to 
	Ramona,“I hope you’ll decide you can stop 
	pulling Susan’s hair so you can come back to 
	kindergarten.” 
	Ramona did not answer. Her feet, no 
	longer light with joy, carried her slowly 
	toward home. She could never go to kindergarten, because Miss Binney did not love her 
	anymore. She would never get to show and 
	178 
	tell or play Gray Duck again. She wouldn’t 
	get to work on the paper turkey Miss Binney 
	was going to teach the class to make for 
	Thanksgiving. Ramona sniffed and wiped 
	the sleeve of her sweater across her eyes. She 
	did love kindergarten, but it was all over 
	now. Cross out Ramona. 
	Not until she was halfway home did 
	Ramona remember her precious tooth in 
	Miss Binney’s desk. 
	179 
	8 
	Kindergarten Dropout 
	“Why, Ramona, whatever is the 
	matter?” Mrs. Quimby wanted to 
	know, when Ramona opened the back door. 
	“Oh . . . nothing.” Ramona had no trouble hiding the gap in her teeth. She did not 
	feel like smiling, and not having a tooth to 
	leave for the tooth fairy was only a small 
	part of her trouble. 
	Mrs. Quimby laid her hand on Ramona’s 
	180 
	forehead. “Are you feeling all right?” she 
	asked. 
	“Yes, I feel all right,” answered Ramona, 
	meaning that she did not have a broken leg, 
	a skinned knee, or a sore throat. 
	“Then something must be wrong,” insisted 
	Mrs. Quimby.“I can tell by your face.” 
	Ramona sighed.“Miss Binney doesn’t like 
	me anymore,” she confessed. 
	“Of course, Miss Binney likes you,” said 
	Mrs. Quimby.“She may not like some of the 
	things you do, but she likes you.” 
	“No, she doesn’t,” contradicted Ramona. 
	“She doesn’t want me there anymore.” 
	Ramona felt sad thinking about the recesses 
	and the new seat work she was going to miss. 
	“Why, what do you mean?” Mrs. Quimby 
	was puzzled. “Of course, Miss Binney wants 
	you there.” 
	“No, she doesn’t,” insisted Ramona. “She 
	told me not to come back.” 
	181 
	“But why?” 
	“She doesn’t like me,” was Ramona’s 
	answer. 
	Mrs. Quimby was exasperated. “Then 
	something must have happened. There is 
	only one thing to do, and that is to go to 
	school and find out. Eat your lunch, and 
	we’ll go to school before afternoon kindergarten starts and see what this is all about.” 
	After Ramona had picked at her sandwich awhile, Mrs. Quimby said briskly, “Put 
	on your sweater, Ramona, and come along.” 
	“No,” said Ramona. “I’m not going.” 
	“Oh yes, you are, young lady,” said her 
	mother, and took her daughter by the hand. 
	Ramona knew she had no choice when 
	her mother started calling her young lady. 
	She dragged her feet as much as she could 
	on the way to school, where the afternoon 
	kindergarten was behaving like the morning 
	kindergarten. Half the class was lined up by 
	182 
	the door waiting for Miss Binney while the 
	other half raced around the playground. 
	Ramona stared at the ground, because she 
	did not want anyone to see her, and when 
	Miss Binney arrived, Mrs. Quimby asked to 
	talk to her for a moment. 
	Ramona did not look up. Her mother led 
	her to the bench beside the kindergarten 
	door.“You sit there and don’t budge while I 
	have a little talk with Miss Binney,” she told 
	Ramona. 
	Ramona sat on the bench swinging her 
	feet, thinking about her tooth in Miss 
	Binney’s drawer and wondering what her 
	teacher and her mother were saying about 
	her. Finally she could stand the suspense no 
	longer. She had to budge so she slipped over 
	to the door, as close as she could without 
	being seen, and listened. The afternoon 
	kindergarten and the workmen across the 
	street were making so much noise she could 
	183 
	catch only a few phrases such as “bright and 
	imaginative,” “ability to get along with her 
	peer group,” and “negative desire for attention.” Ramona felt awed and frightened to 
	be discussed in such strange big words, 
	which must mean Miss Binney thought she 
	was very bad indeed. She scuttled back to 
	the bench when at last she heard her mother 
	walk to the door. 
	“What did she say?” Ramona’s curiosity 
	was almost more than she could endure. 
	Mrs. Quimby looked stern. “She said she 
	will be glad to have you back when you are 
	ready to come back.” 
	“Then I’m not going back,” announced 
	Ramona. She would never go to kindergarten 
	at all if her teacher did not like her. Never. 
	“Oh yes, you are,” said Mrs. Quimby 
	wearily. 
	Ramona knew better. 
	✩✩✩
	184 
	Thus began a difficult time in the Quimby 
	household. “But Ramona, you have to go to 
	kindergarten,” protested Beezus, when she 
	came home from school that afternoon. 
	“Everybody goes to kindergarten.” 
	“I don’t,” said Ramona. “I used to, but I 
	don’t now.” 
	When Mr. Quimby came home from 
	work, Mrs. Quimby took him aside and 
	talked quietly to him. Ramona was not 
	fooled for a minute. She knew exactly what 
	those whispers were about. 
	“Well, Ramona, suppose you tell me all 
	about what went on at school today,” said 
	Mr. Quimby with that false cheerfulness 
	grown-ups use when they are trying to persuade children to tell something they don’t 
	want to tell. 
	Ramona, who longed to run to her 
	father and show him where her tooth used 
	to be, thought awhile before she said, “We 
	185 
	guessed what Miss Binney had in a paper 
	bag that began with a T, and Davy guessed 
	’taterpillars.” 
	“And what else happened?” asked Mr. 
	Quimby, all set to be patient. 
	Ramona could not tell her father about 
	her tooth, and she was not going to tell 
	about pulling Susan’s curls. Nothing much 
	was left to talk about. “We learned T,” she 
	said at last. 
	Mr. Quimby gave his daughter a long 
	look, but said nothing. 
	After dinner Beezus talked to Mary Jane 
	on the telephone, and Ramona heard her 
	say, “Guess what! Ramona is a kindergarten 
	dropout!” She seemed to think this remark 
	was very funny, because she giggled into the 
	telephone. Ramona was not amused. 
	Later Beezus settled down to read a book 
	while Ramona got out her crayons and 
	some paper. 
	186 
	“Beezus, you don’t have a very good light 
	for reading,” said Mrs. Quimby. And she 
	added as she always did,“You have only one 
	pair of eyes, you know.” 
	Here was an opportunity for Ramona to 
	show off her new kindergarten knowledge. 
	“Why don’t you turn on the dawnzer?” she 
	asked, proud of her new word. 
	Beezus looked up from her book. “What 
	are you talking about?” she asked Ramona. 
	“What’s a dawnzer?” 
	Ramona was scornful. “Silly. Everybody 
	knows what a dawnzer is.” 
	“I don’t,” said Mr. Quimby, who had 
	been reading the evening paper. “What is a 
	dawnzer?” 
	“A lamp,” said Ramona. “It gives a lee 
	light. We sing about it every morning in 
	kindergarten.” 
	A puzzled silence fell over the room until 
	Beezus suddenly shouted with laughter. 
	187 
	“She-she means—” she gasped, “The Star-
	Spangled B-banner!” Her laughter dwindled 
	to giggles. “She means the dawn’s early 
	light.” She pronounced each word with 
	exaggerated distinctness, and then she 
	began to laugh again. 
	Ramona looked at her mother and father, 
	who had the straight mouths and laughing 
	eyes of grown-ups who were trying not to 
	laugh out loud. Beezus was right and she 
	was wrong. She was nothing but a girl 
	who used to go to kindergarten and who 
	got everything wrong and made everyone 
	laugh. She was a stupid little sister. A dumb 
	stupid little sister, who never did anything 
	right. 
	Suddenly everything that had happened 
	that day was too much for Ramona. She 
	glared at her sister, made a big crisscross 
	motion in the air with her hand, and shouted, 
	“Cross out Beezus!” Then she threw her 
	188 
	
	crayons on the floor, stamped her feet, burst 
	into tears, and ran into the room she shared 
	with her sister. 
	“Ramona Quimby!” her father said 
	sternly, and Ramona knew that she was about 
	to be ordered back to pick up her crayons. 
	Well, her father could order all he wanted 
	to. She was not going to pick up her crayons. 
	Nobody could make her pick up her crayons. 
	Nobody. Not her father nor her mother. Not 
	even the principal. Not even God. 
	“Now, never mind,” Ramona heard her 
	mother say.“Poor little girl. She’s upset. She’s 
	had a difficult day.” 
	Sympathy made things worse. “I am not 
	upset!” yelled Ramona, and yelling made 
	her feel so much better that she continued. 
	“I am not upset, and I’m not a little girl, and 
	everybody is mean to laugh at me!” She 
	threw herself on her bed and pounded her 
	heels on the bedspread, but pounding on the 
	190 
	
	bedclothes was not bad enough. Far from it. 
	Ramona wanted to be wicked, really 
	wicked, so she swung around and beat her 
	heels on the wall. Bang! Bang! Bang! That 
	noise ought to make everybody good and 
	mad. “Mean, mean, mean!” she yelled, in 
	time to her drumming heels. She wanted to 
	make her whole family feel as angry as she 
	felt. “Mean, mean, mean!” She was glad her 
	heels left marks on the wallpaper. Glad! 
	Glad! Glad! 
	“Mother, Ramona’s kicking the wall,” 
	cried tattletale Beezus, as if her mother did 
	not know what Ramona was doing.“It’s my 
	wall, too!” 
	Ramona did not care if Beezus tattled. 
	She wanted her to tattle. Ramona wanted 
	the whole world to know she was so bad she 
	kicked the wall and left heel marks on the 
	wallpaper. 
	“Ramona, if you’re going to do that you 
	had better take off your shoes.” Mrs. Quimby’s 
	voice from the living room was tired but 
	calm. 
	Ramona drummed harder to show everyone how bad she was. She would not take off 
	her shoes. She was a terrible, wicked girl! 
	Being such a bad, terrible, horrid, wicked 
	192 
	girl made her feel good! She brought both 
	heels against the wall at the same time. 
	Thump! Thump! Thump! She was not the 
	least bit sorry for what she was doing. She 
	would never be sorry. Never! Never! Never! 
	“Ramona!” Mr. Quimby’s voice held a 
	warning note.“Do you want me to come in 
	there?” 
	Ramona paused and considered. Did she 
	want her father to come in? No, she did not. 
	Her father, her mother, nobody could understand how hard it was to be a little sister. She 
	drummed her heels a few more times to 
	prove that her spirit was not broken. Then 
	she lay on her bed and thought wild fierce 
	thoughts until her mother came and silently 
	helped her undress and get into bed. When 
	the light had been turned out, Ramona felt 
	so limp and tired that she soon fell asleep. 
	After all she had no reason to try to stay 
	awake, because the tooth fairy was not going 
	193 
	to come to her house that night. 
	The next morning Mrs. Quimby walked 
	into the girls’ room, and said briskly to 
	Ramona,“Which dress do you want to wear 
	to school today?” 
	The empty space in her mouth and the 
	heel marks on the wall above her bed 
	reminded Ramona of all that had happened the day before. “I’m not going to 
	school,” she said, and reached for her playclothes while Beezus put on a fresh school 
	dress. 
	A terrible day had begun. No one said 
	much at breakfast. Howie, who had recovered from his cold, stopped for Ramona on 
	his way to school, and then went on without her. Ramona watched all the children in 
	the neighborhood go to school, and when 
	the street was quiet, she turned on the television set. 
	Her mother turned it off, saying, “Little 
	194 
	girls who don’t go to school can’t watch television.” 
	Ramona felt that her mother did not 
	understand. She wanted to go to school. She 
	wanted to go to school more than anything 
	in the world, but she could not go back 
	when her teacher did not like her. Ramona 
	got out her crayons and paper, which someone had put away for her, and settled down 
	to draw. She drew a bird, a cat, and a ball in 
	a row, and then with her red crayon she 
	crossed out the cat, because it did not begin 
	with the same sound as bird and ball. 
	Afterward she covered a whole sheet of 
	paper with Q’s, Ramona-style, with ears and 
	whiskers. 
	Ramona’s mother did not feel sorry for 
	Ramona. She merely said,“Get your sweater, 
	Ramona. I have to drive down to the shopping center.” Ramona wished she had a 
	dime from the tooth fairy to spend. 
	195 

	

	There followed the most boring morning 
	of Ramona’s entire life. She trailed along after 
	her mother in the shopping center while Mrs. 
	Quimby bought socks for Beezus, some buttons and thread, pillowcases that were on sale, 
	a new electric cord for the waffle iron, a package of paper for Ramona to draw on, and a 
	pattern. Looking at patterns was the worst 
	part. Ramona’s mother seemed to sit for 
	hours looking at pictures of boring dresses. 
	At the beginning of the shopping trip, 
	Mrs. Quimby said,“Ramona, you mustn’t put 
	your hands on things in stores.” Later she said, 
	“Ramona, please don’t touch things.” By the 
	time they reached the pattern counter, she 
	said,“Ramona, how many times do I have to 
	tell you to keep your hands to yourself ?” 
	When Mrs. Quimby had finally selected a 
	pattern and they were leaving the store, who 
	should they run into but Mrs.Wisser, a neighbor. “Why, hello!” exclaimed Mrs. Wisser. 
	“And there’s Ramona! I thought a big girl 
	like you would be going to kindergarten.” 
	Ramona had nothing to say. 
	“How old are you, dear?” asked Mrs. 
	Wisser. 
	Ramona still had nothing to say to Mrs. 
	Wisser, but she did hold up five fingers for 
	the neighbor to count. 
	“Five!” exclaimed Mrs.Wisser.“What’s the 
	matter, dear? Has the cat got your tongue?” 
	198 
	Ramona stuck out her tongue just 
	enough to show Mrs.Wisser that the cat had 
	not got it. 
	Mrs.Wisser gasped. 
	“Ramona!” Mrs. Quimby was thoroughly 
	exasperated.“I’m sorry, Mrs.Wisser. Ramona 
	seems to have forgotten her manners.” After 
	this apology she said angrily, “Ramona 
	Geraldine Quimby, don’t you ever let me 
	catch you doing such a thing again!” 
	“But Mama,” protested Ramona, as she 
	was dragged toward the parking lot, “she 
	asked me, and I was just showing—” There 
	was no use in finishing the sentence, because 
	Mrs. Quimby was not listening and she 
	probably would not have understood if she 
	had listened. 
	Mrs. Quimby and Ramona returned 
	home in time to pass the morning kindergarten straggling along the sidewalk with their 
	seat-work papers to show their mothers. 
	199 
	Ramona got down on the floor of the car so 
	she would not be seen. 
	Later that afternoon Beezus brought 
	Mary Jane home from school to play. “How 
	did you like kindergarten today, Ramona?” 
	asked Mary Jane in a bright, false tone. It told 
	Ramona all too clearly that she already knew 
	Ramona had not gone to kindergarten. 
	“Why don’t you shut up?” asked Ramona. 
	“I’ll bet Henry Huggins isn’t going to 
	want to marry a girl who hasn’t even finished 
	kindergarten,” said Mary Jane. 
	“Oh, don’t tease her,” said Beezus, who 
	might laugh at her sister herself, but was 
	quick to protect her from others. Ramona 
	went outside and rode her two-wheeled, 
	lopsided tricycle up and down the sidewalk 
	for a while before she sadly removed Miss 
	Binney’s red ribbon, which she had woven 
	through the spokes of her front wheel. 
	On the second morning Mrs. Quimby 
	200 
	took a dress out of Ramona’s closet without 
	a word. 
	Ramona spoke.“I’m not going to school,” 
	she said. 
	“Ramona, aren’t you ever going back to 
	kindergarten?” Mrs. Quimby asked wearily. 
	“Yes,” said Ramona. 
	Mrs. Quimby smiled. “Good. Let’s make 
	it today.” 
	Ramona reached for her playclothes.“No. 
	I’m going to stay away until Miss Binney 
	forgets all about me, and then when I go back 
	she’ll think I’m somebody else.” 
	Mrs. Quimby sighed and shook her head. 
	“Ramona, Miss Binney is not going to forget 
	you.” 
	“Yes, she will,” insisted Ramona. “She 
	will if I stay away long enough.” 
	Some older children on the way to school 
	shouted, “Dropout!” as they passed the 
	Quimbys’ house. The day was a long, long 
	201 
	one for Ramona. She drew some more seat 
	work for herself, and afterward there was 
	nothing to do but wander around the house 
	poking her tongue in the hole where her 
	tooth was while she kept her lips shut tight. 
	That evening her father said, “I miss my 
	little girl’s smiles.” Ramona managed a tightlipped smile that did not show the gap in 
	her teeth. Later she heard her father say something to her mother about “this nonsense 
	has gone on long enough,” and her mother 
	answered with something about “Ramona 
	has to make up her own mind she wants to 
	behave herself.” 
	Ramona despaired. Nobody understood. 
	She wanted to behave herself. Except when 
	banging her heels on the bedroom wall, she 
	had always wanted to behave herself. Why 
	couldn’t people understand how she felt? 
	She had only touched Susan’s hair in the 
	first place because it was so beautiful, and 
	202 
	the last time—well, Susan had been so bossy 
	she deserved to have her hair pulled. 
	Ramona soon discovered the other children in the neighborhood were fascinated 
	by her predicament. “How come you get to 
	stay out of school?” they asked. 
	“Miss Binney doesn’t want me,” Ramona 
	answered. 
	“Did you have fun in kindergarten today?” 
	Mary Jane asked each day, pretending she 
	did not know Ramona had stayed home. 
	Ramona, who was not fooled for an instant, 
	disdained to answer. 
	Henry Huggins was the one, quite unintentionally, who really frightened Ramona. 
	One afternoon when she was pedaling her 
	lopsided, two-wheeled tricycle up and down 
	in front of her house, Henry came riding 
	down the street delivering the Journal. He 
	paused with one foot on the curb in front of 
	the Quimbys’ house while he rolled a paper. 
	203 
	“Hi,” said Henry. “That’s quite a trike 
	you’re riding.” 
	“This isn’t a trike,” said Ramona with 
	dignity. “This is my two-wheeler.” 
	Henry grinned and threw the paper onto 
	the Quimbys’ front steps. “How come the 
	truant officer doesn’t make you go to 
	school?” he asked. 
	“What’s a truant officer?” asked Ramona. 
	“A man who gets after kids who don’t go 
	to school,” was Henry’s careless answer, as he 
	pedaled on down the street. 
	A truant officer, Ramona decided, must 
	be something like the dog catcher who sometimes came to Glenwood School when there 
	were too many dogs on the playground. He 
	tried to lasso the dogs, and once when he 
	did manage to catch an elderly overweight 
	Bassett hound, he shut the dog in the back 
	of his truck and drove away with it. Ramona 
	did not want any truant officer to catch her 
	204 
	and drive away with her, so she put her lopsided, two-wheeled tricycle into the garage 
	and went into the house and stayed there, 
	looking out from behind the curtains at the 
	other children and poking her tongue into 
	the space where her tooth used to be. 
	“Ramona, why do you keep making such 
	faces?” asked Mrs. Quimby in that tired voice 
	she had been using the last day or so. 
	Ramona took her tongue out of the 
	space.“I’m not making faces,” she said. Pretty 
	soon her grown-up tooth would come in 
	without the tooth fairy paying a visit, and 
	no one would ever know she had lost a 
	tooth. She wondered what Miss Binney had 
	done with her tooth. Thrown it away, most 
	likely. 
	The next morning Ramona continued 
	to draw rows of three pictures, circle two 
	and cross out one, but the morning was 
	long and lonely. Ramona was so lonely she 
	205 
	even considered going back to kindergarten, but then she thought about Miss 
	Binney, who did not like her anymore and 
	who might not be glad to see her. She 
	decided she would have to wait much, 
	much longer for Miss Binney to forget her. 
	“When do you think Miss Binney will 
	forget me?” Ramona asked her mother. 
	Mrs. Quimby kissed the top of Ramona’s 
	head. “I doubt if she will ever forget you,” 
	she said. “Not ever, as long as she lives.” 
	The situation was hopeless. That noon 
	Ramona was not at all hungry when she sat 
	down to soup, a sandwich, and some carrot 
	sticks. She bit into a carrot stick, but somehow chewing it took a long time. She stopped 
	chewing altogether when she heard the 
	doorbell chime. Her heart began to thump. 
	Maybe the truant officer had finally come to 
	get her and carry her off in the back of his 
	truck. Maybe she should run and hide. 
	206 
	
	“Why, Howie!” Ramona heard her 
	mother say. Feeling that she had had a close 
	call, she went on chewing away at the carrot 
	stick. She was safe. It was only Howie. 
	“Come on in, Howie,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“Ramona is having her lunch. Would you 
	like to stay for some soup and a sandwich? I 
	can phone your mother and ask her if it’s all 
	right.” 
	Ramona hoped Howie would stay. She 
	was that lonely. 
	“I just brought Ramona a letter.” 
	Ramona jumped up from the table. “A 
	letter for me? Who’s it from?” Here was the 
	first interesting thing that had happened in 
	days. 
	“I don’t know,” said Howie.“Miss Binney 
	told me to give it to you.” 
	Ramona snatched the envelope from 
	Howie, and, sure enough, there was 
	RAMONA printed on the envelope. 
	“Let me read it to you,” said Mrs. Quimby. 
	“It’s my letter,” said Ramona, and tore 
	open the envelope.When she pulled out the 
	letter, two things caught her eye at once— 
	her tooth Scotch-taped to the top of the 
	paper and the first line, which Ramona could 
	read because she knew how all letters began. 
	208 
	“DEAR RAMONA 
	” was followed by 
	two lines of printing, which Ramona was 
	not able to read. 
	“Mama!” cried Ramona, filled with joy. 
	Miss Binney had not thrown away her tooth, 
	and Miss Binney had drawn ears and whiskers 
	on her Q. The teacher liked the way Ramona 
	made Q, so she must like Ramona, too. 
	There was hope after all. 
	“Why, Ramona!” Mrs. Quimby was 
	astonished. “You’ve lost a tooth! When did 
	that happen?” 
	“At school,” said Ramona, “and here it 
	is!” She waved the letter at her mother, and 
	then she studied it carefully, because she 
	wanted so much to be able to read Miss 
	Binney’s words herself.“It says,‘Dear Ramona 
	Q. Here is your tooth. I hope the tooth fairy 
	brings you a dollar. I miss you and want you 
	to come back to kindergarten. Love and 
	kisses, Miss Binney.’ ” 
	209 
	Mrs. Quimby smiled and held out her 
	hand.“Why don’t you let me read the letter?” 
	Ramona handed over the letter. Maybe 
	the words did not say exactly what she had 
	pretended to read, but she was sure they 
	must mean the same. 
	“‘Dear Ramona Q,’” began Mrs. 
	Quimby. And she remarked, “Why, she 
	makes her Q the same way you do.” 
	“Go on, Mama,” urged Ramona, eager to 
	hear what the letter really said. 
	Mrs. Quimby read, “ ‘I am sorry I forgot 
	to give you your tooth, but I am sure the 
	tooth fairy will understand. When are you 
	coming back to kindergarten?’ ” 
	Ramona did not care if the tooth fairy 
	understood or not. Miss Binney understood 
	and nothing else mattered. “Tomorrow, 
	Mama!” she cried. “I’m going to kindergarten tomorrow!” 
	“Good girl!” said Mrs. Quimby and 
	hugged Ramona. 
	210 
	
	“She can’t,” said matter-of-fact Howie. 
	“Tomorrow is Saturday.” 
	Ramona gave Howie a look of pity, but 
	she said, “Please stay for lunch, Howie. It 
	isn’t tuna fish. It’s peanut butter and jelly.” 
	211 
	About the Author 
	BEVERLY CLEARY is one of America’s most popular authors. 
	Born in McMinnville, Oregon, she lived on a farm in Yamhill 
	until she was six and then moved to Portland. After college, as 
	the children’s librarian in Yakima, Washington, she was 
	challenged to find stories for non-readers. She wrote her first book, 
	HENRY HUGGINS, in response to a boy’s question, 
	“Where are the books about kids like us?” 
	Mrs. Cleary’s books have earned her many prestigious awards, 
	including the American Library Association’s Laura Ingalls Wilder 
	Award, presented in recognition of her lasting contribution to 
	children’s literature. Her DEAR MR. HENSHAW was awarded the 
	1984 John Newbery Medal, and both RAMONA QUIMBY, AGE 8 
	and RAMONA AND HER FATHER have been named Newbery 
	Honor Books. In addition, her books have won more than thirty-five 
	statewide awards based on the votes of her young readers. Her 
	characters, including Henry Huggins, Ellen Tebbits, Otis Spofford, 
	and Beezus and Ramona Quimby, as well as Ribsy, Socks, and Ralph 
	S. Mouse, have delighted children for generations. Mrs. Cleary lives 
	in coastal California. 
	Visit Ramona Quimby and all of her friends in The World of Beverly 
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FEATURING 
	MORE GREAT FICTION 
	RAMONA QUIMBY: 
	BY BEVERLY CLEARY: 
	Beezus and Ramona 
	Ellen Tebbits 
	Ramona the Pest 
	Otis Spofford 
	Ramona the Brave 
	Fifteen 
	Ramona and Her Father 
	The Luckiest Girl 
	Ramona and Her Mother 
	Jean and Johnny 
	Ramona Quimby, Age 8 
	Emily’s Runaway 
	Imagination 
	Ramona Forever 
	Sister of the Bride 
	Ramona’s World 
	Mitch and Amy 
FEATURING 
	Socks 
	HENRY HUGGINS: 
	Dear Mr. Henshaw 
	Henry Huggins 
	Muggie Maggie 
	Henry and Beezus 
	Strider 
	Henry and Ribsy 
	Two Times the Fun 
	Henry and the Paper Route 
	Henry and the Clubhouse 
AND DON'T MISS 
	BEVERLY CLEARY'S 
	Ribsy 
	AUTOBIOGRAPHIES: 
FEATURING 
	A Girl from Yamhill 
	RALPH MOUSE: 
	My Own Two Feet 
	The Mouse 
	and the Motorcycle 
	Runaway Ralph 
	Ralph S. Mouse 
	Credits
	Typography by Amy Ryan 
	Jacket art © 2006 by Tracy Dockray 
	Jacket design by Amy Ryan 
	Copyright
	RAMONA THE PEST. Copyright © 1968 by Beverly Cleary. All 
	rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright 
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Document Outline
	Cover Image 
	Title Page 
	Contents Chapter One: Ramona�s Great Day Chapter Two: Show and Tell Chapter Three: Seat Work Chapter Four: The Substitute Chapter Five: Ramona�s Engagement Ring Chapter Six: The Baddest Witch in the World Chapter Seven: The Day Things Went Wrong Chapter Eight: Kindergarten Dropout About the Author Enjoy all of Beverly Cleary�s books Credits Copyright Notice About the Publisher