THE town of Banbury Cross was very pretty, situated at the corner of two cross-roads, close to a sparkling river over which ran a bridge. As Puss, Jr., on his good gray horse, whose feet went rackety-rackety, rackety-tak over the broad planking, drew rein at the farther end a small boy, who stood by the side of a pretty little pony, began to sing:
"I had a little pony,
His name was Dapple-gray,
I lent him to a lady
To ride a mile away.
She whipped him, she lashed him,
She rode him through the mire;
I would not lend my pony now,
For all the lady's hire."
"Neither would I," said Puss.
The little boy opened his eyes very wide. They were blue as the skies overhead and were full of tears. "She whipped him, she lashed him," continued the boy. "I'll never again lend my pony to anybody."
"I wouldn't lend my good gray horse," said Puss, "for one never knows whether a person is kind to animals or not."
"I never thought a lady would hurt my pony," sobbed the boy. "Just look at him. He's all covered with mud."
"So he is," said Puss, consolingly; "but never mind. A good washing will fix him up."
"But my father will be angry," said the boy. "He doesn't like to wash my pony, and I'm too little."
"Let's take your pony down to the riverbank," Puss suggested. "We'll find a shallow spot and wash him off. Perhaps we can ride him a little way into the water; that would help." Tying his good gray horse to a post near by, Puss led the pony down the bank to the river, the little boy following.
"Do you want to ride him in," asked Puss, "or shall I?"