"Your birfday can't be afore mine." "'Tis, Esty thays so," Sarah would reply.
"Esty's a liar," Isaac responded imperturbably.
"Ask _Tatah_." "_Tatah_ dunno.

Ain't I five ?" "Yeth." "And ain't you four ?" "Yeth." "And ain't I older than you ?" "Courth." "And wasn't I born afore you ?" "Yeth, Ikey." "Then 'ow can your birfday come afore mine ?" "'Cos it doth." "Stoopid!" "It doth, arx Esty," Sarah would insist.
"Than't teep in my new bed," Ikey would threaten.
"Thall if I like." "Than't!" Here Sarah would generally break down in tears and Isaac with premature economic instinct, feeling it wicked to waste a cry, would proceed to justify it by hitting her.

Thereupon little Sarah would hit him back and develop a terrible howl.
"Hi, woe is unto me," she would wail in jargon, throwing herself on the ground in a corner and rocking herself to and fro like her far-away ancestresses remembering Zion by the waters of Babylon.
Little Sarah's lamentations never ceased till she had been avenged by a higher hand.

There were several great powers but Esther was the most trusty instrument of reprisal.

If Esther was out little Sarah's sobs ceased speedily, for she, too, felt the folly of fruitless tears.