"I have private reasons."
"What?"
"No matter."
"I know," said the Cat-made-of-worsted. "I saw her behind. She's hollow. She's stuffed with lamp-lighters. He! he!" and the Cat-made-of-worsted grinned again.
"I love you just as much," said the steadfast Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound, "and I don't believe the Cat."
"Go away," said the Parian girl, angrily. "You're all hateful. I won't have you."
"Ah!" sighed the Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound.
"Ah!" came another sigh—it was from the China-girl-rising-out-of-a-pen-wiper—"how I pity you!"
"Do you?" said he eagerly. "Do you? Then I love you. Will you marry me?"
"Ah!" said she; "but—"