"And he wasn't a girl."
"No?"
"No. You could never guess what he was."
"Then you will have to tell me."
"He was a fly."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, he was a fly; a sure enough fly. And where do you think the pond was? Not a truly pond, but play it was, you know."
"It might have been the sirup pitcher or the plum jar. Flies are very fond of sweets."
"But it wasn't. It was the cream jug. He was trying to catch some milk and he tumbled in."
"What a pity!"