And there was the sweetest dolly in the parlor, all dressed up in blue silk! Oh, dear! And a penano, to play real little tunes on, and a rocking-chair, and—O kitty-cat! I can’t begin to tell you half about it.
I can’t about the bed-room, either, and the dinner-room.
But the kitchen was the very bestest of all. There was a stove—a teeny tonty mite of a one, kitty-cat,—with dishes just zactly like mamma’s, only littler, of course, and fry-pans and everything; and spoons to stir with, and a rolling-pin, and two little cutters-out, and the darlingest baker-sheet ever you saw!
And the first thing that little girl did was to make some teenty mites of cookies, ’cause her mamma let her; and if you’ll come right down stairs, kitty-cat, I’ll give you one.
’Cause I was that little girl, kitty-cat, all the time.
A LITTLE ROGUE.
Grandma was nodding, I rather think;
Harry was sly and quick as a wink;