and so was the scarlet cat's, and there's not even
one elephant left in the ark, nor a camel, nor a canary, nor a ladybird,
nor a bear."

"Oh! never mind your elephants and ladybirds," interrupted the Ball,
irreverently; "we shall waste all our time in this arguing and
quarrelling!"

"It's easy for you to talk, young man," remarked the Shuttlecock,
sarcastically; "_you_ have never been into the battle of life, or lost
all your feathers."

"This is very stupid work," said the Skipping-rope, coiling about and
trying to disentangle herself from the Kite, a proceeding that resulted
in one of her handles coming off, and the Kite being shorn of the tassel
at the end of his tail.

"Well, what _are_ we to do with ourselves," asked the Rocking-Horse, "we
are not all of us quite so lively as you, my friend Ball. To us a
holiday conveys the idea of _rest_, not restlessness."

"Then I should think holidays were superfluous things to you!" muttered
the Ball, as he took an extra roll out into the room; "but what are we
to do, then?"

"Tell stories," suggested the Doll, and the Rocking-Horse and Kite
seconded the motion. The Ball bounded about very impatiently, and
proposed a game of play, but he was outvoted, and the first motion was
carried. But the noise of the argument had awakened the Humming-top, and
he began to buzz and hum in such a drony, drowsy fashion, that in sheer
terror and dread, the Ball threw himself gallantly into the gap, and
promised to tell the first story himself, on condition that he should be
allowed to roll softly about the room for the rest of the evening. This
was very willingly agreed to, and all the party being comfortably
arranged, the Doll having taken care to ensure the services of the Kite,
the Ball begun his proffered story in the following manner.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

THE HISTORY OF THE BALL; WITH THE STORY OF THE POOR OLD WIDOW WHO MADE
IT.

"If I were not of a very lively character," remarked the Ball, "I should
feel rather shy at making my first appearance as a story teller. But you
know all people of my giddy habits are not much given to serious
consideration. We make a bold spring and bound down into the middle of a
matter, while all the graver folks are nervously trembling on the very
brink. And so, instead of beginning at the very first chapter of my
story, and telling you that I first grew on an animal's back as skin,
and was then turned into