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“Glad to have you aboard, lassie!” Wig Guy shook her hand. “The Revolution was a long time ago. Let’s be mates!”

The girl with the freckles and the funny voice was from England! Where they drank tea and had a queen. Judy had never met a real-live person from a whole other country before. Rare!

“I’m going to talk to her,” Judy told Stink.

“You can’t! She’s a Redcoat! One of the Bad Guys!”

Judy looked around, but the Girl from Across the Pond was nowhere in sight. Just then, Mom called for Judy and Stink to go to the gift shop.

Judy wandered up and down the aisles. Boxes of tea, bags of tea, tins of tea. Teapots and teacups and teaspoons. Stink followed her.

“Look! A tricorn hat!” She tried it on. “Stink, can I borrow some money? I want to get this hat.”

“It’s my money,” said Stink. “From my allowance. Use your own.”

“But I already spent mine at the Old North Church gift shop. On a Declaration of Independence and a Paul Revere’s Ride flip book. I should get more allowance because I’m older than you. C’mon, Stink. You always have money.”

“No way,” said Stink.

“Redcoat!” Judy said.

“Yankee Doodle!” Stink said.

“Lobsterback!” said Judy.

“Chowder Head!” said Stink.

“Red Belly!” said Judy.

“Blue Belly!” said Stink.

“Kids! Keep it down,” said Dad.

“Stink, stop following me around and stop getting me in trouble. Don’t forget, I’m independent of you now.” Judy walked away, past the drums and pennywhistles.

There she was! The tea drinker girl from England was not even looking at tea. She was looking at snow globes. Of Boston. Judy liked snow globes, too!

“Are you really a Red — I mean, from England?”

“Of course,” said the girl. Her voice sounded snooty, as if the queen herself made the girl’s bed.

“Does the queen make your bed?” asked Judy.

“WHAT?”

“Never mind. I was just wondering. What’s your name?” Judy asked.

“Victoria. But you can call me Tori.”

Stink popped up from behind a spinner rack. “Tory! Tories were the Bad Guys in the Revolution!” he said.

“Stink, stop spying on us!” said Judy. She turned back to Tori. “Um . . . what’s that rabbit on your purse?” she blurted.

“It’s Bonjour Bunny. I’m freaky for Bonjour Bunny! I have the backpack, jimjams, and sleeping bag. I even have my own Bonjour Bunny alarm clock! I just got the phone for my birthday. And the flannel, I mean washcloth, for my bathroom in our flat.”

“Flat? You have a tire in your house?”

“No, it’s our apartment. Mum has her bathroom, and I have mine.”

PHONE! BATHROOM! WASHCLOTH! Judy’s mom and dad would never let her have a phone. Or her own bathroom. At home, Judy had to use any old washcloth. Even ones with Stink cooties.

“I collect stuff, too,” said Judy. “Mostly Barbie-doll heads and pizza tables. My newest collection is ABC gum. I stick it on the lamp in my room.”

“ABC gum?” asked the girl.

“Already Been Chewed — I label each piece, like a rock collection.”

“Fab!” said Tori. “I never heard of that.”

“And I collect pencils,” said Judy. “And Band-Aids.”

“Brilliant!” said Tori. “We call them plasters, not Band-Aids.”

“Do you collect tea?” asked Judy.

“No. But I do collect sugar packets with pictures on them.” Tori opened her coin purse. It was filled with sugar packets! She, Judy Moody, Collector of the World, had never even thought of collecting sugar packets.

“I have American presidents and flags of the world,” said Tori. “Famous paintings. Hotel names . . . boring! Famous women, too. See? Here’s one of Susan B. Anthony.”

“Do you have Amelia Bloomer? She gave a speech on Boston Common in her undies,” said Judy.

“In her knickers?” asked Tori.

“Really they were bloomers. Some people call them pant-a-loons. Because they’re loons if they think girls can’t wear pants,” said Judy.

“At least it wasn’t in her nuddy pants,” Tori whispered. “That means bare naked!” Judy and Tori cracked up.

“I did get some at the snack bar with Ben Franklin sayings!” Tori added. “See?”

Judy read the sugar packets. “‘Don’t cry over spilled milk.’ ‘If your