—Julia A. Schwartz.
THE BABY THAT SLEEPS IN A POCKET
For days and days the baby opossums lay crowded close together in their mother’s furry pocket. They slept and drank milk, and grew and grew till their eyes began to open.
It was dark all around them, but above their heads a gray line showed where light was stealing in over the edge of the pocket.
The biggest baby opossum looked up with his little bright eyes. He wanted to see more. So he crawled up, clambering over the soft tiny bodies of the eleven other babies.
Some of them wriggled and squirmed under his little bare feet. After slipping back once or twice he reached the edge and poked his pointed white snout outside.
He could not see anything because he was under his mother, and her long fur hung down over him. She was lying on a nest of grasses in a hollow tree.
That was where she stayed all day long while the sun was shining. Every night at dusk she climbed down the rough trunk and went to hunt for something to eat.