Page 83—Play Land

In the Toy Shop
Cups and saucers, pots and pans,
China figures, Chinese fans,
Railway trains, with tops and tables,
Fairy tales, and Aesop's fables.
Clockwork mice, and colored marbles,
Painted bird that sweetly warbles,
Dolls of every age and size,
With flaxen curls and moving eyes.
Cows and horses, chickens, cats,
Rattles, windmills, boats and bats,
Ducks and geese, and golden fishes,
Skipping ropes, and copper dishes.
Books with coloured pictures, too,
And a thousand other things for you;
Dainty maidens, merry boys,
Here you are, all sorts of toys.

Neat Little Clara
"Little Clara, come away,
Little Clara, come and play;
Leave your work, Maria's here,
So come and play with me, my dear."
"I will come, and very soon,
For I always play at noon;
But must put my work away,
Ere with you I come and play.
First my bodkin I must place
With my needles in their case;
I like to put them by with care,
And then I always find them there.
There's my cotton, there's my thread
Thimble in its little bed;
All is safe—my box I lock,
Now I come—'tis twelve o'clock."

Playing Store
"Ting-a-ling!" Now they
Have opened the store,
Never was such
An assortment before;
Mud pies in plenty,
And parcels of sand,
Pebbles for sugar plums,
Always on hand.
Plenty of customers
Coming to buy,
"Brown sugar, white sugar
Which will you try?
Paper for money;
Their wealth, too, is vast;
In spite of the plenty,
They scatter it fast.
Quick little hands
Tie bundles with care,
Summer's glad music
Is filling the air;
Birdies fly over,
And wonder, no doubt,
What all these gay
little folks are about.

Fishing
He took a stick, he took a cord,
He took a crooked pin,
And went a-fishing in the sand
And almost tumbled in.
But just before he tumbled in,
By chance it came about,
He hooked a whiting and a sole,
And made them tumble out.

Hide and Seek
When the clean white cloth is laid,
And the cups are on the table,
When the tea and toast are made,
That's a happy time for Mabel.
Stealing to her mother's side,
In her ear she whispers low,
"When papa comes I'll hide;
Don't tell him where I go,"
On her knees upon the floor,
In below the sofa creeping;
When she hears him at the door,
She pretends that she is sleeping.
"Where is Mabel?" father cries,
Looking round and round about.
Then he murmurs in surprise,
"Surely Mabel can't be out."
First he looks behind his chair,
Then he peers beneath the table,
Seeking, searching everywhere
All in vain for little Mabel;
But at last he thinks he knows,
And he laughs and shakes his head,
Says to mother, "I suppose
Mabel has been put to bed."
But when he sits down to tea,
From beneath the sofa creeping,
Mabel climbs upon his knee,
Clasps her hands: "I was not sleeping."
When he asks, "Where is my girl's
Very secret hiding-place?"
Mabel only shakes her curls,
Laughing, smiling, in his face.

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