"You might call him Don Carlos, or Don Pedro," suggested Mr. Parlin.
"No, papa; only think of Donny: that is like Donkey! You haven't any long ears, have you, pony? If you had, I'd call you Little Pitcher, for 'little pitchers have great ears.' That makes me think of Mr. Allen, auntie. How big his ears are, you know? Is it because his teacher pulled them so?"
"O, call him 'Gustus,'" cried Prudy.
"But that would soon be Gusty," said aunt Madge, "and would sound too much like the east wind."
"Dear me," sighed Susy; "who'd ever think it was such hard work to find names?"
"O, look," said Prudy, as they passed a jaded old horse; "there is a pony just exactly like this! Only it's twice as big, you know, and not a bit such a color!"
"Well, there, Prudy," said Susy, disdainfully, "I thought, when you began to speak, you was going to tell something! Why don't you wait till you have something to say? Please give me a list of names, papa."
"There's Speedwell, Lightfoot, Zephyr, Prince, Will-o'-the-wisp—"
"I might call him Wispy," broke in Susy. "Zephyr is good, only it makes you think of worsteds."
"Now, listen," said aunt Madge; "you might call him Elephant, just for sport, because he is in reality so very little. Or, on the other hand, you might find the least speck of a name, like Firefly, or Midge."