Again she settles herself and sleeps; This time she dreams that she crouches and creeps, A great gray tiger along the grass, While herds of soft-eyed antelopes pass, | ||
When—patter, patter!
“Now what’s the matter?”
Again, with a scramble, the three appear;
“Oh mammy dear, see here, see here,
We have found our mittens—see!” they cry.
“You have? Then you shall have some pie!
Found your mittens?
You nice, nice kittens!”
She goes to the oven; there is a pie;