“Anne Shirley, what have you done to your hair? Why, it's GREEN!”
Green it might be called, if it were any earthly color—a queer, dull, bronzy green, with streaks here and there of the original red to heighten the ghastly effect. Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne's hair at that moment.
“Yes, it's green . . . I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I know it's ten times worse to have green hair.”