As the handles dip toward her, Greta jumps and makes a wild grab at the ribbons. One hand successfully seizes onto a curl the texture of wax paper, and she drops back to the ground with a triumphant little cry before the rebound of the bag almost yanks her back into the air. "Oh!" She grabs onto the ribbon with her other hand and scrabbles for purchase with her feet for a few moments before bracing herself against the pull of the bag. Then she hauls away, the side of the bag buckling and caving in as the handle bows toward the floor.

Well, this is progress. Greta wraps the ribbon around her forearms as she tugs. The buckling point creeps down the wall of the bag until it's as low as her chin, though she can't begin to see who might be inside. There's too much tissue paper in the way.