Jeanne often passed the park, but the amusements there were not for her. Jeanne had no time for Guignols and donkeys and goat carts. Jeanne had to go to school and from school to help Auntie in the shop.
The donkeys and swings and other amusements did not attract Jeanne so much. But oh, how she loved the Guignol! Very often she would stop outside the tall gates and watch for ever so short a time.
And when the children cried out, "There he is! There he is!" as they do when the wicked policeman pops up his puppet head, Jeanne would shout with them.
She loved those silly little puppets. She knew them all just by passing them each day.
There was Guignol, the bad boy. He was the one all the children loved. There was the policeman; and how they hated him! There was a funny lady with a wobbly hat, which was always knocked off; and her hair would all fall down.
There were others. There was a pale, very pale boy they called Pierrot (pyĕ-rō´) which, in French, means "clown."
Jeanne felt sorry for him because he was very old and paintless and torn. They never gave him a fresh coat of paint nor mended his suit. Poor Pierrot!
Jeanne knew those stories by heart, too. There was the story of the milkman. The bad boy drinks all the milkman's milk, while sending him on useless errands.