'She wasn't like the milkmaids here,' explained the mother; 'she lived in England, where the happy cats are, and the pies.'
'And first he says will she marry him, and then he says he doesn't want to?' repeated April, to whom this conduct appeared extraordinary.
'Oh, she didn't care much, and only laughed at him when he went away.'
'Does you like that man, mummy?' asked June.
'Not much,' said the mother.
'I too not much,' said June with decision, 'I too not much at all.'
But June and the other two babies thought all male beings inferior creatures, because they had only met one boy in their lives, and they had been able to knock him down. Of course they saw distant boys from time to time, when they passed the end of the village street or were at the seaside, but there was only one boy for them to play with, the families within reach happening to be made up of girls. This boy had come to tea with his mother on his first introduction into their midst, and after tea, and while the two mothers sat on a sofa watching their children, and each one thinking how much nicer hers were, the babies said, 'Now we shall play.'
'Come, boy,' said June, seizing his arm as he showed no signs of moving, 'come—does you hear? We shall play.'
'I never play with little girls,' said the boy.
The babies stared. 'Why not?' they asked.