  “My dress is pretty,” a little girl said. “Did you make it?” I asked. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t make it,” she laughed in glee. “It took lots of people to make it,” said she. “I’ll tell you about it, because I know What my mother told me is truly so. “The silkworms grew it, and after a while Men unraveled it into a pile; Girls spun it and wove it and sent it away, And my mother bought it for me one day; And the dressmaker cut it and sewed it for me— These are the reasons I love it,” said she. |
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