“No; most lambs have black fleece,” continued the Lamb, anticipating another question. “I had an elder brother who was different: he was the white sheep of the family. We seldom speak of him. Yes; I know what you are thinking of; but Mary’s Little Lamb died years ago. You may recite it if you wish.”
Buddie could not help doing so; for the old jingle had come into her head and insisted on getting out again. So she began:
“Mary had a little lamb
Whose fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.”
“That’s not the way I learned it,” the Lamb interrupted. “Try another verse.”
Buddie went on:
“He followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule,