ing,
And stopped to see it play
In the sun.
Said the lamb, "Perhaps I may
Charm these creatures with my play,
And they'll let me go away,
When I've done."

The wolves, they sat asmiling at
The playful thing, to see
How exceedingly beguiling that
Its pretty play could be.
See it hop!
But its strength began to wane,
Though it gamboled on in pain,
Till it finally was fain,
For to stop.

Oh! then there was a munching,
Of that tender little thing,
And a crunching and a scrunching,
As you'ld munch a chicken wing.
No avail
Was its cunning, merry play
For the only thing, they say,
That was left of it that day,
Was its tail.
So with me; when I am done,
And the critics have begun,
All they'll leave me of my fun
'Ll be the tale.

H Pyle

[Illustration]

THE APPLE OF CONTENTMENT

There was a woman once, and she had three daughters. The first daughter
squinted with both eyes, yet the woman loved her as she loved salt, for
she herself squinted with both eyes. The second daughter had one
shoulder higher than the other, and eyebrows as black as soot in the
chimney, yet the woman loved her as well as she loved the other, for she
herself had black eyebrows and one shoulder higher than the other. The
youngest daughter was as pretty as a ripe apple, and had hair as fine as
silk and the color of pure gold, but the woman loved her not at all,
for, as I have said, she herself was neither pretty, nor had she hair of
the color of pure gold. Why all this was so, even Hans Pfifendrummel
cannot tell, though he has read many books and one over.

The first sister and the second sister dressed in their Sunday clothes
every day, and sat in the sun doing nothing, just as though they had
been born ladies, both of them.

As for Christine--that was the name of the youngest girl--as for
Christine, she dressed in nothing but rags, and had to drive the geese
to the hills in the morning and home again in the evening, so that they
might feed on the young grass all day and grow fat.

The first sister and the second sister had white bread (and butter
beside) and as much fresh milk as they could drink; but Christine had to
eat cheese-parings and bread-crusts, and had hardly enough of them to
keep Goodman Hunger from whispering in her ear.

This was how the churn clacked in that house!

Well, one morning Christine started off to the hills with