And down I sat and cried.
“Just then a pretty little maid
Chanced to be walking by;
She stopped, and looking pitiful,
She begged me not to cry.
“‘Poor little girl, you fell,’ said she,
‘And must be sadly hurt;’
’O no,‘ I cried; ’but see my fruit,
All mixed with sand and dirt.’
“‘Well, do not grieve for that,’ she said,