'Now we're sitting like Polly Flinders,' said the mother.
'What's Flinders?' asked April.
'Is Flinders one girl?' asked June, scooping up the sugar at the bottom of her cup.
May said nothing, but put out her tongue as far as it would go, and then whisked it right round her mouth several times running with considerable skill. There was some butter on her nose, and some on her chin, and though she had a handkerchief, and a pocket to keep it in, and every convenience for cleaning herself, she preferred taking her tongue, and so not wasting either time or butter.
'Didn't I ever tell you about Polly Flinders?' asked the mother, who had watched May's tongue, fascinated, till the last bit of butter had been safely captured. 'Didn't you ever hear how she
Sat in the cinders
Warming her little toes?
Her mummy came and caught her
And whipped her little daughter
For spoiling her nice new clothes.'
LITTLE POLLY FLINDERS.
Little Polly Flinders
Sat on the cinders,
Warming her little toes;
Her mother came and caught her,
And whipp'd her little daughter,
For spoiling her nice new clothes.