Here is the other one, the septa announced.
My thanks, Septa Mordane. I would talk to my daughters alone, if you would be so kind. The septa bowed and left.
Arya started it, Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. "She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She hates that I'm going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can't standfor anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid."
Enough, Sansa. Lord Eddard's voice was sharp with impatience.
Arya raised her eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong and I beg my sweet sister's forgiveness."
Sansa was so startled that for a moment she was speechless. Finally she found her voice. "What about my dress?"
Maybe... I could wash it, Arya said doubtfully.
Washing won't do any good, Sansa said. "Not if you scrubbed all day and all night. The silk is ruined."
Then I'll... make you a new one, Arya said.
Sansa threw back her head in disdain. "You? You couldn't sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties."
Their father sighed. "I did not call you here to talk of dresses. I'm sending you both back to Winterfell."