“Now look here,” said the April Fool, when J. M. was done. “I have several important questions to ask this crowd.”
He then proceeded to ask the questions, not one of which anyone even tried to answer.
“Now, speech is very curious:
You never know what minute
A word will show a brand-new side,
With brand-new meaning in it.
This world could hardly turn around,
If some things acted like they sound.
“Suppose the April flower-beds,
Down in the garden spaces,
Were made with green frog-blanket spreads
And caterpillar-cases;
Or oak trees locked their trunks to hide
The countless rings they keep inside!
“Suppose from every pitcher-plant
The milk-weed came a-pouring;
That tiger-lilies could be heard
With dandelions roaring,
Till all the cat-tails, far and near,
Began to bristle up in fear!
“What if the old cow blew her horn
Some peaceful evening hour,
And suddenly a blast replied
From every trumpet-flower,
While people’s ears beat noisy drums
To ‘Hail, the Conquering Hero Comes!’
“If barn-yard fowls had honey-combs,
What should we think, I wonder?
If lightning-bugs should swiftly strike,
Then peal with awful thunder?
And would it turn our pink cheeks pale
To see a comet switch its tail?”
The queer little fellow did not seem to be at all disturbed by the failure of the company to answer his questions. He turned courteously to little Ann.
“It’s your turn to ask a riddle, you know,” he reminded her.
To little Ann’s astonishment a riddle popped right into her head—a rhymed riddle, at that!