et--
Of summer day and lambs at play--
Oh, how we love the cricket!"

"This merry little song always seemed to please everybody except the
gnat. The fairies appeared to regard the gnat as a pestiferous insect,
but a contemptuous pity led them to call upon him for a recitation,
which invariably was in the following strain:

THE FATE OF THE FLIMFLAM

A flimflam flopped from a fillamaloo,
Where the pollywog pinkled so pale,
And the pipkin piped a petulant "pooh"
To the garrulous gawp of the gale.
"Oh, woe to the swap of the sweeping swipe
That booms on the hobbling bay!"
Snickered the snark to the snoozing snipe
That lurked where the lamprey lay.

The gluglug glinked in the glimmering gloam,
Where the buzbuz bumbled his bee--
When the flimflam flitted, all flecked with foam,
From the sozzling and succulent sea.
"Oh, swither the swipe, with its sweltering sweep!"
She swore as she swayed in a swoon,
And a doleful dank dumped over the deep,
To the lay of the limpid loon!

"This was simply horrid, as you all will allow. The queen and her
fairy followers were much relieved when the honest katydid narrated a
pleasant moral in the form of a ballad to this effect:

CONTENTMENT

Once on a time an old red hen
Went strutting 'round with pompous clucks,
For she had little babies ten,
A part of which were tiny ducks.
"'T is very rare that hens," said she,
"Have baby ducks as well as chicks--
But I possess, as you can see,
Of chickens four and ducklings six!"

A season later, this old hen
Appeared, still cackling of her luck,
For, though she boasted babies ten,
Not one among them was a duck!
"'T is well," she murmured, brooding o'er
The little chicks of fleecy down--
"My babies now will stay ashore,
And, consequently, cannot drown!"

The following spring the old red hen
Clucked just as proudly as of yore--
But lo! her babes were ducklings ten,
Instead of chickens, as before!
"'T is better," said the old red hen,
As she surveyed her waddling brood;
"A little water now and then
Will surely do my darlings good!"

But oh! alas, how very sad!
When gentle spring rolled round again
The eggs eventuated bad,
And childless was the old red hen!
Yet patiently she bore her woe,
And still she wore a cheerful air,
And said: "'T is best these things are so,
For ba