“No one can make a rhyme to that,” said Katie, who was not blessed with a powerful rhyming talent; “that’s one of the words there’s no rhyme to, like silver and twelfth.”
“Maid, shade, glade, played,” suggested Mary Ann.
“O, yes,” said Katie; “but I don’t know a line of poetry that ends in any of those words.”
“Give Mary Ann your turn, then,” said Lily, “and may be you’ll get an easier word.”
So Mary Ann wrote a line rapidly and then passed the paper to Lottie Bush, who wrote another rhyme to it, for the versification was to be in triplets. Then Katie, thinking it would be easier to inaugurate a rhyme than to find one, began a new verse and gave “tale” as the final word of her line.
Some of the party were very quick, but others had to expend much thought on their lines; so quite a little while passed before the poem was finished and handed to Lily to read.
“Ahem!” she began, clearing her throat. “This remarkable poem is the joint production of a number of first-class poets. It was original sometime, and it is called—
“MANY LINES FROM MANY PENS, BY LOTS OF FOLKS.
“An Austrian army awfully arrayed,
Sure, I’m but a simple village maid,