LITMIR.BIZ

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voices, singing, laughing, chatting in the gayest way, and understood every word they said. The squirrels called to one another as they raced about,--

      "Here's a nut, there's a nut;

      Hide it quick away,

      In a hole, under leaves,

      To eat some winter day.

      Acorns sweet are plenty,

      We will have them all:

      Skip and scamper lively

      Till the last ones fall."

      The birds were singing softly,--

      "Rock a bye, babies,

      Your cradle hangs high;

      Soft down your pillow,

      Your curtain the sky.

      Father will feed you,

      While mother will sing,

      And shelter our darlings

      With her warm wing."

      And the ants were saying to one another as they hurried in and out of their little houses,--

      "Work, neighbor, work!

      Do not stop to play;

      Wander far and wide,

      Gather all you may.

      We are never like

      Idle butterflies,

      But like the busy bees,

      Industrious and wise."

      "Ants always were dreadfully good, but butterflies are ever so much prettier," said Kitty, listening to the little voices with wonder and pleasure.

      "Hollo! hollo!

      Come down below,--

      It's lovely and cool

      Out here in the pool;

      On a lily-pad float

      For a nice green boat.

      Here we sit and sing

      In a pleasant ring;

      Or leap-frog play,

      In the jolliest way.

      Our games have begun,

      Come join in the fun."

      "Dear me! what could I do over there in the mud with the queer green frogs?" laughed Kitty, as this song was croaked at her.

      "No, no, come and fly

      Through the sunny sky,

      Or honey sip

      From the rose's lip,

      Or dance in the air,

      Like spirits fair.

      Come away, come away;

      'T is our holiday."

      A cloud of lovely yellow butterflies flew up from a wild-rose bush, and went dancing away higher and higher, till they vanished in the light beyond the wood.

      "That is better than leap-frog. I wish my skipping shoes would let me fly up somewhere, instead of carrying me on errands and where I ought to go all the time," said Kitty, watching the pretty things glitter as they flew.

      Just at that minute a clock struck, and away went the shoes over the pool, the hill, the road, till they pranced in at the gate as the tea-bell rang. Kitty amused the family by telling what she had done and seen; but no one believed the Fairyland part, and her father said, laughing,--

      "Go on, my dear, making up little stories, and by and by you may be as famous as Hans Christian Andersen, whose books you like so well."

      "The sun will soon set, and then my fun will be over; so I must skip while I can," thought Kitty, and went waltzing round the lawn so prettily that all the family came to see her.

      "She dances so well that she shall go to dancing-school," said her mother, pleased with the pretty antics of her little girl.

      Kitty was delighted to hear that; for she had longed to go, and went on skipping as hard as she could, that she might learn some of the graceful steps the shoes took before the day was done.

      "Come, dear, stop now, and run up to your bath and bed. It has been a long hot day, and you are tired; so get to sleep early, for Nursey wants to go out," said her mother, as the sun went down behind the hills with a last bright glimmer, like the wink of a great sleepy eye.

      "Oh, please, a few minutes more," began Kitty, but was off like a flash; for the shoes trotted her upstairs so fast that she ran against old Nursey, and down she went, splashing the water all over the floor, and scolding in such a funny way that it made Kitty laugh so that she could hardly pick her up again.

      By the time she was ready to undress the sun was quite gone, and the shoes she took off were common ones again, for midsummer day was over. But Kitty never forgot the little lessons she had learned: she tried to run willingly when spoken to; she remembered the pretty steps and danced like a fairy; and best of all, she always loved the innocent and interesting little creatures in the woods and fields, and whenever she was told she might go to play with them, she hurried away almost as quickly as if she still wore the skipping shoes.

       So Cocky was brought in, and petted.--PAGE 105.

      Cockyloo

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      In the barnyard a gray hen sat on her nest, feeling very happy because it was time for her eggs to hatch, and she hoped to have a fine brood of chickens. Presently crack, crack, went the shells; "Peep, peep!" cried the chicks; "Cluck, cluck!" called the hen; and out came ten downy little things one after the other, all ready to run and eat and scratch,--for chickens are not like babies, and don't have to be tended at all.

      There were eight little hens and two little cockerels, one black and one as white as snow, with yellow legs, bright eyes, and a tiny red comb on his head. This was Cockyloo, the good chick; but the black one was named Peck, and was a quarrelsome bad fowl, as we shall see.

      Mrs. Partlet, the mamma, was very proud of her fine family; for the eight little daughters were all white and very pretty. She led them out into the farmyard, clucking and scratching busily; for all were hungry, and ran chirping round her to pick up the worms and seeds she found for them. Cocky soon began to help take care of his sisters; and when a nice corn or a fat bug was found, he would step back and let little Downy or Snowball have it. But Peck would run and push them away, and gobble up the food greedily. He chased them away from the pan where the meal was, and picked the down off their necks if they tried to get their share. His mother scolded him when the little ones ran to hide under her wings; but he did n't care, and was very naughty. Cocky began to crow when he was very young, and had such a fine voice that people liked to hear his loud, clear "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" early in the morning; for he woke before the sun was up, and began his song. Peck used to grumble at being roused at dawn, for he was lazy; but the hens bustled up, and were glad to get out of the hen-house.

      The father cock had been killed by a dog; so they made Cocky king of the farmyard, and Peck was very jealous of him.

      "I came out of the shell first, and I am the oldest; so I ought to be king," he said.

      "But we don't like you, because you are selfish, cross, and lazy. We want Cocky; he is so lively, kind, and brave. He will make a splendid bird, and he must be our king," answered the hens; and Peck had to mind, or they would have pulled every feather out of his little tail.

      He resolved to do

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