"Shhhhhhhh . . . They'll hear us!" she chastised.
"But I thought we wanted them to. I thought we wanted to play with them," her younger cohort replied.
"We want them to want us to, but not if we have to make them," she not-so-patiently pointed out.
"But if they don't know we're here, how will they know to ask us to join?" the newbie inquired.
"Oh they know we're here . . ." she was using her wise-sage-voice now. "They've always known. Sometimes they pretend not to see is all."
"That doesn't make any sense," she innocently injected, yet with impatience growing. "They always seem to like it when we're around. I mean he's always patting me on the head. And he tells me all the time how smart and pretty I am. Why don't you like them?"
"I do like them. Well, what I know of them. I don't think we think alike. And I know that we have very different opinions about the way things ought to be done. But we don't talk about it. We're just nice to one another and frankly that's less and less fun. So sometimes, I'd just rather be invisible to them."
"But I can see you right?" she asked.
"Those who want to -- who try to -- will always see me."