Read to you, Little One? Why, yes. What shall it be to-night? You guess You’d like to hear about the Bears—  Their bowls of porridge, beds and chairs? Well, that you shall.... There! that tale’s done! And now—you’d like another one? To-morrow evening, Curly Head. It’s “hass-pass seven.” Off to bed!

  So each night another story:  Wicked dwarfs and giants gory; Dragons fierce and princes daring, Forth to fame and fortune faring; Wandering tots, with leaves for bed; Houses made of gingerbread; Witches bad and fairies good, And all the wonders of the wood.

 “I like the witches best,” says she Who nightly nestles on my knee; [Pg 18]  And why by them she sets such store, Psychologists may puzzle o’er. Her likes are mine, and I agree With all that she confides to me. And thus we travel, hand in hand, The storied roads of Fairyland.

“I like the witches best,” says she

[Pg 18]

  Ah, Little One, when years have fled, And left their silver on my head, And when the dimming eyes of age With difficulty scan the page, Perhaps I’ll turn the tables then; Perhaps I’ll put the question, when I borrow of your better sight— “Please—will you read to me to-night?”

“Please—will you read to me to-night?”

[Pg 19]

[Pg 19]

THE BREAKFAST FOOD FAMILY

  John Spratt will eat no fat, Nor will he touch the lean; He scorns to eat of any meat, He lives upon Foodine.

Nor will he touch the lean;

He lives upon Foodine.

  But Mrs. Spratt will none of that, Foodine she cannot eat; Her special wish is for a dish Of Expurgated Wheat.

Foodine she cannot eat;

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