“The little Spider’s scalt herself,
And the Flea weeps.”
So the broom began to sweep industriously, and presently a little cart came by, and asked the reason. “May I not sweep?” replied the broom:
“The little Spider’s scalt herself,
And the Flea weeps;
The little door creaks with the pain,”—
Thereupon the little cart said: “So will I run,” and began to run very fast, past a heap of ashes, which cried out: “Why do you run, little cart?”
“Because,” replied the cart:
“The little Spider’s scalt herself,
And the Flea weeps;