Then the little boy went up, up, up, over the tree-tops, and over the houses until he came to the stars! My, but he was away up high in the sky!
“The little boy went up, up, up, until he came to the stars”
The stars were so bright he winked and blinked his eyes, and suddenly he forgot to keep hold of the string, and down, down, down he fell to earth again, and his kite flew away and he never saw it again!
“Did the fall hurt him?” asked Molly.
“Did he truly lose his kite forever?” asked Polly.
The Ink-Bottle Papa said, “The boy was not hurt at all, for he fell on his mother’s feather bed that she had out on the porch airing!”
“Oh my!” cried all the Babies at once. “What fun it would be to fall on a feather bed! We wish we could fly and fall in soft places, too!”
Just then Molly gave a little cry, and Polly gave a little cry.
What do you suppose was happening?