"Hank hankers for a hanky
To blow his funny nose,
Hank hankers for a hanky,
I hanker for a rose!"
"I do not," brayed Hank, Betsy Bobbins' little mule, flapping his ears sulkily. "You don't know what you are singing about, Scraps. Go away and stop jeering me. How could I use a hanky, you silly girl?"
"Hank, you're a crank!" shouted Scraps, and capered on down the path, stopping to chin herself on a tulip tree and dropping in a wobbly heap beside the little table where Ozma, Betsy Bobbin and Trot were having breakfast.
"You shouldn't tease Hank like that," said Ozma, looking reproachfully at Scraps over her gold breakfast cup.