“Yes, it is a sweet story,” she returned, “and we were so glad to get it, and the town, too. It shows our children how the children of other countries live.”
“Aren’t you tired after telling so many stories?” asked Mary Frances.
“Oh, no, I never grow tired of hearing and telling stories; but I like to hear you talk. Won’t you tell me something from your country?”
“Yes—let me see. All I can think of is a little poem about a robin and a buttercup.”
“Do let me hear it.”
So she recited—
The Robin and the Buttercup[B]
Down in the field, one day in June,
The flowers all bloomed together,
Save one, who tried to hide herself,