The next, a game quite unknown to me, I took down from the lips of a little girl in West Cornwall, in 1882, who told me it was a great favourite with her and her playmates.
Ghost at the Well.
One of the party is chosen for ghost (if dressed in white so much the better); she hides in a corner; the other children are a mother and daughters. The eldest daughter says:
“Mother, mother, please give me a piece of bread and butter.”
M. Let me (or “leave me”) look at your hands, child. Why, they are very dirty.
E. D. I will go to the well and wash them.
She goes to the corner, the ghost peeps up, and she rushes back, crying out—
“Mother! mother! I have seen a ghost.”
M. Nonsense, child! it was only your father’s nightshirt I have washed and hung out to dry. Go again.