A noisy boisterous child was Ann, And very far from good; She did not play the pleasant games That little children should; With rumpled hair and dresses torn She came home every day; In vain mamma said, "Ann, pray learn To be less rude at play."

Now little Ann came home one time In a most piteous plight, For she had fallen in the mud; Indeed she was a sight. The housemaid standing in the door Exclaimed, "What child is this?" "Why, Hannah, can't you see I'm Ann?" Cried out the little miss.

"Our little Ann in rags and dirt, Her hair all out of curl; No, no," cried Hannah; "run away, You little beggar girl. If it is scraps of bread you want Go to the kitchen door; I can't believe you're any child I ever saw before."

Now Ann has to the kitchen run With tears and streaming eyes; "Oh, dear cook, please to let me in: I'm little Ann," she cries. "What little Ann?" the good cook says; "Indeed that cannot be. Our Ann would never wear such rags I'm very sure; not she!"