"I'm grateful," he said, "for the wish you express,
But I've no occasion for such a fine dress;
I had rather remain with my limbs all free,
Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-de.
Chick-a-de-de, &c.
VIII.
"There is ONE, my dear child, tho' I cannot tell who,
Has clothed me already, and warm enough too—
Good morning! O, who are so happy as we?"—
And away he went, singing his chick-a-de-de.
Chick-a-de-de, &c.
EDGAR AND WILLIAM;
OR HOW TO AVOID A QUARREL.
"No, I won't! Go and get your own knife," replied William, in a tone quite as ungracious as that in which the request, or rather command, had been made.
"I don't wish to go into the house. Give me your knife, I say. I only want it for a minute."
"I never lend my knife, nor give it, either," returned William. "Get your own."