"What is that?"
"What? Where?" cried a dozen voices.
"Why—don't you see? That dark thing over there by the idiot's cottage."
"I don't see anything," said one.
"I do," shouted another, "it's a dog!"
"Where's any dog?" put in a squeaky voice that we have heard before—"It's no such thing—it's a heap of rags."
"Pooh! Voost," retorted another gruffly, "that's about as near the fact as you ever get; it's the goose-girl, Gretel, looking for rats."
"Well, what of it?" squeaked Voost; "isn't she a bundle of rags, I'd like to know?"
"Ha! ha! Pretty good for you, Voost! You'll get a medal for wit yet, if you keep on."
"You'd get something else, if her brother Hans were here. I'll warrant you would!" said a muffled up little fellow, with a cold in his head.