Betty started up, screaming,—
"Don't kill me! Oh, please don't! I'm not a truly pig, I'm a little girl; and if you'll let me run home, I'll never fret when I'm washed again."
"What is the dear child afraid of?" said mamma, cuddling her close, and laughing to see Betty stare wildly about for the fat pigs and the stuffy sty.
She told her mother all about the queer time she had had, and was much surprised to hear mamma say,—
"It was all a dream, dear; you have been safely asleep in your little bed ever since you slapped poor Maria last night."
"Well, I'm glad I dreamed it, for it has made me love to be clean. Come, Maria, soap and scrub as much as you like, I won't kick and scream ever any more," cried Betty, skipping about, glad to be safe in her pleasant home and no longer a dirty, lazy piggy girl.