To play the mischief.
1835. Must all the world know all the didos we cut up in the lodge-room?—D. P. Thompson, ‘Adventures of Timothy Peacock,’ p. 170 (Middlebury).
1837. If you keep a cutting didoes, I must talk to you both like a Dutch uncle. Each of you must disperse; I can’t allow no insurrection about the premises.—J. C. Neal, ‘Charcoal Sketches,’ p. 201.
1839. I tell ye that cuttin’ didos was jist nothin’ at all to what this critter was doin’.—Havana (N.Y.) Republican, Aug. 21.
1851. Had the Free States been manly enough to enact the Wilmot Proviso, we should have had just the same didoes cut up by the [Southern] chivalry.—N.Y. Tribune, April 10 (Farmer).
1853. He’s the last person in the world that I should a’ picked aout, that would a’ ben cuttin’ up any didoes.—‘Turnover: a Tale of New Hampshire,’ p. 53 (Boston).
1856. Much practice in this line effectually uses up a great many ugly little didoes which are apt to ripen up in the bosoms of the blessedest families where there’s no fly-wheel of frequent ‘company’ to keep down the steam.—Knick. Mag., xlvii. 508 (May).
1869. They ’ll be a consultin’ together, an’ cuttin’ up didos.—Mrs. Stowe, ‘Oldtown Folks,’ chap. viii.
