A small and stooping fairy crone
Stept nimbly from the fire.
Said she: “The pride upon me grates
Of Gwendolyn and Gladys Gates.”
“I’ll now,” she added, with a frown,
“Call Gwendolyn and Gladys down!”
And, ere your fingers you could snap,
There stood before the door
No paltry hired horse and trap,
Oh, no!—a coach and four!