"Croak!"
"Or the ducks?"
"Croak!"
"If you want to go a-wooing, there are frogs in your own station in life; indeed, with your personal appearance, you might even aspire to an eft or a lizard."
"Croak!" persisted the sulky little Frog.
"You are no better than a tadpole!" said his mother, getting very angry at last; and no sooner were the words out of her lips, than up jumped Master Froggy in a passion, and taking his opera-hat under his arm, off he went at a rapid pace, singing at the top of his voice, so as to hide his rage,—
| "Rowley, powley, gammon and spinach. |
| 'Heigh O!' says Anthony Rowley." |
Froggy had not walked very far before he saw, jogging on before him, a brown little fellow in a long-tail coat and Blucher boots, who carried an old cotton umbrella. "Dear me," thought the Frog, "that looks like my friend Mr. Rat;" and sure enough so it was.
"How do you do?" asked Master Froggy, when he had overtaken him.
"Pretty well!—How's your self?—Where are you going?—Fine day!—Squeak!" replied Mr. Rat, in a succession of short, shrill sentences.