That would be!

 Up spoke a little lady Aged five; "I 've tumbled up my over-dress, Sure as I 'm alive! My dress came from Paris; We sent to Worth for it; Mother says she calls it Such a fit!" 

Aged five;

Sure as I 'm alive!

We sent to Worth for it;

Such a fit!"

 Quick there piped another Little voice— "I did n't send for dresses, Though I had my choice; I have got a doll that Came from Paris too; It can walk and talk as Well as you!" 

Little voice—

Though I had my choice;

Came from Paris too;

Well as you!"

 Still, till now, there sat one Little girl; Simple as a snow-drop, Without flounce or curl. Modest as a primrose, Soft, plain hair brushed back, But the color of her dress was Black—all black. 

Little girl;

Without flounce or curl.

Soft, plain hair brushed back,

Black—all black.

 Swift she glanced around with Sweet surprise; Bright and grave the look that Widened in her eyes. To entertain the party She must do her share, As if God had sent her Stood she there; 

Sweet surprise;

Widened in her eyes.

She must do her share,

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