A MUSIC BOX
I am a little music box,
Wound up and made to go,
And play my little living tune
The best way that I know.
If I am naughty, cross, or rude,
The music will go wrong,
My little works be tangled up
And spoil the pretty song.
I must be very sweet and good
And happy all the day,
And then the little music box
In tune will always play.
AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
LITTLE SCAR-FACE
Among the pine trees, by a quiet lake, stood the wigwam of a great Indian whose name was Big Moose. His sister kept the wigwam for him, and took care of all that was his. Her name was White Maiden.
No one but White Maiden had ever seen Big Moose. The Indians could see the marks of his feet in the snow, and they could hear his sled as it ran over the ice, but they could not see him.
It was said that this was because they were not kind and good.