"Well," Emma smiled, "if you're ok with it, then, go right ahead, she loves chasing that ball of hers all over the gardens, I just can't seem to throw it far enough some times."
She brushed at the muck on her jeans, fussed Lily briefly and took the ball, then looked up, "I'm Emma, I don't think we've met before, but I've seen you about before. But if you want to play? You might need this."
She held out the ball, an old tennis ball, soggy and with a hole or two in it.