“That’s what happened,” said the Shoe Lady.
“Well, er—excuse me—but, that is, do you think it just right to whip them ALL?” asked Uncle Wiggily, kindly. “Might not at least one of them have been good?”
“Oh, bless your tall hat!” exclaimed the Shoe Lady, with a laugh. “I don’t really whip them, you know. That part of the verse is wrong. I only make believe to whip them—pretend, you know, so as to make it as near like the book as I can.”
“But I heard crying,” said Uncle Wiggily.
“Yes, but it was only make-believe crying, just like the pretended whipping,” laughed the Shoe Lady. “I wouldn’t for the world hurt one of the children, even though I have so many I don’t know what to do.”
Uncle Wiggily was glad to hear that, and he was just hopping on, when up came running a little boy.
“Oh, take me in! Take me in!” he cried. “I want my make-believe whipping. I want to make-believe cry, have my broth, without any bread, and go to bed.”
“Why, Toodles!” exclaimed the Shoe Lady, looking at him in surprise. “I did not know you were out. You stayed too late at your play. There are so many children here now I don’t believe there is room to get you in. After the children eat their supper they swell up, and the shoe house is hardly large enough for them,” she said to Uncle Wiggily.
“Oh, I must get in,” cried Toodles. “I must!”
“Well, I’ll try,” said the Shoe Lady. She and Uncle Wiggily tried, but the shoe was so full of children that not another one could get in. They pushed and pulled and shoved and hauled, but poor Toodles could not get in.