“We are very little to mow to-day;
Let us help keep your holiday!”
Then the Ink-Bottle Papa stopped fooling, and he said, “There is a fine wind for flying kites; we will all make kites to-day; then we will go out and fly them.”
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” cried the Babies. “We will all make kites. We will make big kites, little kites, and middle-sized kites!”
Now, did the Ink-Bottle Babies make kites? Well, I guess they did!
“Oh, oh, oh, my kite pulls so hard!”
They cut and they pasted, and they rapped and tapped away, and then they said,