“I’m ready,” I cried.
Down I toppled.
Over went the bucket, and over went Jill.
“Sakes-a-mussy!” shrieked Sally. “Sakes-a-mussy! missus, they’re all tumbling down together.”
Mother cried, “Oh! the dear boys.”
Aunt lifted her eyes and mittened palms cloudwards.
But for all that, down we rolled in fine form,—
Jill over Jack,
The bucket over Jill,
Right to the bottom
Of the big green hill.
That is how we metred it, that evening after the row was all over, and we were sent to bed.
But it would have defied all the art of metre to describe the plight we were in when Robert and Sally picked us up, and led us at arm’s length into the kitchen. For I was soused from head to foot, and Jill had got it second hand, and as for mud and rents—the least said the soonest mended.