Maggy.—Me see; me see!

Fred.—There! Maggy has put her whole hand in. What will mother say?

Bessy.—It will do no harm now for me to taste it.

Fred.—Isn't it nice?

Maggy.—Me want plum.

Bessy.—Maggy mustn't stick her hand in. She will spoil mamma's nice cake.

Maggy.—Me want taste. You and Fred taste.

Fred.—Hark! I hear mother's step on the stairs. Now scatter, all three! Lick your fingers clean, and run.

Bessy.—I wish we hadn't touched the cake.