“Aw, heck!” muttered the older boy with the picture on the back of his shirt, “he would have to be a sore head and spoil all the fun.”
“He can’t be a sore head,” sang out contrary Mary, “if he hasn’t any, any, any, any head!”
Other voices joined her and the children were singing again. Tommy waved the tailor, and Muffs swung Fannie Flatbreast on her ribbon. The others took hold of hands and paraded back and forth across the grass on the man’s neatly trimmed lawn. They jumped over his hedge and broke off pieces of shrubbery to wave like flags as they sang:
“Headless man! Headless man!
Come and catch us if you can!”
The boy who had made up this new and still more tantalizing song banged on the door with a piece of primrose tree.
“You’ll break the glass!” cried Muffs in a fright. “Come away and leave him alone. Maybe he’s got a headache.”
“He can’t have a headache! He hasn’t any, any, any, any head!” called all the children. “Headless man! Headless man! Come and catch us——”
“I’ll catch you and wring your necks,” he cried, bursting open the door. He had a stick in his hand and shook it at them as he shouted, “Get out of here! I’ve had enough of children. It’s a pity a man can’t have peace in his own house what with children banging on doors and breaking in windows——”
“Did someone break in his window?” asked one of the older boys, looking a little frightened.