With none but fair Catskin did dance.
"Pray tell me," said he, "where you live?"
For now 'twas the parting-time;
But she no other answer would give,
Than this distich of mystical rhyme,—
Kind Sir, if the truth I must tell,
At the sign of the Broken-Ladle I dwell.
Then she flew from the ball, and put on
Her Catskin robe again;
And slipt in unseen by the cook,