“It is not a horrid old tail!” cried Alice, her sweet hazel eyes flashing. “It’s a nice white tail! He’s a booful horse, with a nice white tail.”
“Well, so he is,” said Miss Lizzie, laughing. “So hurra for the booful horse!”
This reminded the funny little thing of one of her songs, which she immediately set up at the top of her voice, and as they reached the house in the pouring rain, the ladies inside heard Alice singing with all her little might:
“Woar, boys, fevver!
Woar, boys, woar!
Down with the tritty!
Up with the ’tar!
We’ll rally round the f’ag, boys,
Rally round ’gain,
Shoutin’ the batter crider fee-dom!”[3]