"I have been wanting to repeat to you what I call some very nice poetry, which Mr. Crow made about a dream of mine. It is really the best thing he ever wrote, and although I the same as promised not to ask you to listen to anything more of his, I am very anxious for you to hear it." "Don't think that I object so severely to what Mr. Crow writes," your Aunt Amy replied. "I have heard a number of things he wrote which I thought were very good indeed." Then Mrs. Mouser Cat repeated the following: Kitty cat, kitty cat, asleep on the rug, When you flick your ears, and your whiskers quiver so, "Oh, I have a fairy-land I visit in my sleep, "There are pantries where the pans of milk are brimming o'er, "Then I walk along the fences and I grandly wave my tail; "And in my pretty fairy-land no cruel boys appear; "Now I really think that is good, Mrs. Mouser," and your Aunt Amy spoke no more than the truth. "I don't seriously object to Mr. Crow's nonsense verses; but at the same time I never really enjoy them." |