"Oh dear, oh dear," sobbed Rowley, the tears rolling down his face, "I want to get home. I'll never run away again."
"But as Froggy was crossing over a brook,
Heigh-ho, says Rowley.
A lily-white duck came and gobbled him up,
So there was an end of one, two and three,
Heigh-ho, says Rowley.
The Rat, the Mouse and the little Frog-gee,
With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigh-ho, says Anthony Rowley!"
"This is dreadful," cried Puss, as he saw his small friend disappear down the duck's long neck; "it has been a sad day. All three of my little friends are gone."
"Never mind," cried the lily-white duck, looking up at Puss standing mournfully by the side of the brook, "Frogs are good to eat, and if they will run away from home, it's their own lookout. They should stay in their ponds and not go wandering about strange places."
Puss did not answer. It seemed pretty hard to meet such a sad fate, and he did not like the lily-white duck at all.
"Come, come," cried the duck, "cheer up, I'll ferry you across the brook if you wish to reach the other side."
"That's kind of you," said Puss, seating himself on her back.
"I'm not such a bad sort of duck," she continued, paddling swiftly toward the opposite bank, "but I must eat, and frogs are mighty good eating, let me tell you."
As she finished speaking she waddled up the bank, and Puss sprang nimbly from her back. "Thank you, Mrs. Duck," he said, "indeed, I'm obliged to you; but I wish you hadn't eaten my friend, the little frog."
Just then nine little yellow ducklings waddled toward them. "These are my children," said Mrs. Duck, very proudly.