ily, had no fire in it,) hitting her
head harder than even a lost princess could possibly care to do. For a
few minutes there was sorrow and confusion among the princesses; but the
offer of a story from Mrs. Posset soon calmed their royal minds, and
they gathered round the good nurse's table with eager faces.

"Well, and what shall the story be about, Missies?" she asked.

"Oh! about the three little girls!" said Puff. Fluff nodded her head
approvingly, and Downy said "Free ittle dirls!" in a satisfied tone. So
they listened, and I listened, and my dog listened. And you may listen,
too, if you like, though it is an old story, and you may have heard it
before.

"Once upon a time, then," said Mrs. Posset, threading her
darning-needle, and taking up one of Nibble's stockings, which was in
such a condition as might have made a darning-machine turn pale, "there
were three little girls, and their names were Orange and Lemon and
Hold-your-tongue. And they all lived together in a little red house with
a green roof, which stood in the middle of a wood. Now every morning
there was the work to be done, you see. So on Monday morning Orange
would get up at the break of day, so to speak, and she swept the house,
and she made the fire, and she cooked the breakfast--"

"What did they have for breakfast?" asked Fluff.

"Pork chops," said Mrs. Posset. "And then she called her sisters; and
when they had eaten their breakfast, they all went out and played for
the rest of the day.

"Well, and on Tuesday morning Lemon got up early. And she swept the
house, and she made the fire, and she cooked the breakfast--"

"What did they have _that_ morning?" interrupted Puff.

"Cod's head and shoulder!" replied Mrs. Posset. "And then she called her
sisters; and when they had eaten their breakfast, they all went out and
played for the rest of the day.

"Well, my dears, as I'm telling you, on Wednesday, the third little
girl--dear! dear! what was her name now? I seem to forget--"

"Hold-your-tongue!" cried Fluff, eagerly.

"Well! well!" said Mrs. Posset, pretending to be very much vexed. "To
think of your having no better manners than that, Miss Fluff! telling me
to hold my tongue, indeed! not another story will you get from me
to-day, I promise you!"

This was a favorite joke of Mrs. Posset's, I found, and the children
were never tired of it, though they knew that the little story went no
further than "Hold your tongue!" They were still la