Well, I feel bad. I mean you haven't tried to cut my hair and sell it to the black market or something. [Which is what she is always told would happen if people get their hands on it. She believes her mother.]

So you've done nothing wrong to warrant being smacked on the head with a frying pan, which probably hurts. [She looks around, now where is she suppose to go again? Oh, that's right the fountain. Which was was that she thought as she looked around.]