Not just now. I'm
busy with a picture-book.
[_A reproachful silence falls upon the room._
_Pamela_ (_presently, in a mournful chant_). A for Don-key. B for
Dicky--
_The Scene closes._
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PRINCE COMES HOME.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: MORE OUTLINES OF HISTORY.
_Sailor._ "WE HAVE JUST SEEN SOME ORANGE-PEEL AND BANANA-SKINS FLOATING
ON THE STARBOARD, SIR."
_Columbus._ "WAS THERE ANY CHEWING-GUM?"
_Sailor._ "NO, SIR."
_Columbus._ "THEN IT MUST BE THE WEST INDIES WE'RE COMING TO, AND I'D
HOPED IT WAS GOING TO BE AMERICA."]
* * * * *
FLOWERS' NAMES.
CROW'S-FOOT.
Have you noticed that the splendid dreams, the best dreams that there are,
Come always in the darkest nights without a single star?
When the moonless nights are blackest the best dreams are about;
I'll tell you why that should be so and how I found it out.
There's a bird who comes at night-time, and underneath his wings,
All warm and soft and feathery, lie tiny fairy things;
He spreads his wings out widely (you see them, not the dark)
And you hear the fairies whispering, "Hush! hush!" "I'll tell you!" "Hark!"
The bird is black and feathery, but his feet are made of gold;
He chiefly comes in summer-time, for fairies hate the cold;
And if the nights are velvet-dark and full of summer airs
He lingers till the sun creeps up and finds him unawares.
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