"It don't need babies to write lullabies," Allee scornfully retorted. "A real poet can write about anything."
"Well, anyway, I like this one better." Peace's eyes had travelled rapidly through the lines, and lingered over some stanzas on the opposite page:
"I wonder why the fairies hide?
I'm sure I'd like to see them dance,
But though my very best I've tried,
I never yet have had a chance.
I wonder why, don't you?
I wonder why the birdies fly,
While I alone can cry and talk;