"I will make him a horse to play with," and Chola seated himself and began to mould the clay as he had seen the old potter do.
"I shall make a buffalo like the sacred one that stole the sweets yesterday," said Nao, falling to work.
"Tush! this only sticks to my fingers!" exclaimed Mahala, impatiently, after a few minutes' work.
"Give it to me and let me try," said Shriya, eagerly.
"Thou canst take it; and a good riddance, too," and Mahala held out a pair of dirty hands.
"There!" cried Chola, "here is thy horse, little one; but wait, I must put a saddle on him," he said, as the baby crowed and put out his hands.
"A horse, indeed," laughed Mahala; "it looks as much like a horse as Nao's buffalo."
"I couldn't make the horns stick on mine," grumbled Nao.
"And thou hast forgotten thy buffalo's tail, too!" Chola laughed, heartily.