Part 4 (1/2)

Nothing to say at all, oh, ho!

Except good-by to the old black crow-- The rollicking old black crow!

They made a good deal of fuss over Mr. Crow's poem. They applauded, of course, but they said it wasn't so at all, and that Mr. Crow was a good deal more than ”just nothing.” They said that it was he who had got up this party, and that he was the best man to plan and cook anywhere. Mr.

'Possum said he even liked Mr. Crow's April fool chicken pies, and then they all remembered and laughed, even to Mr. Crow himself. After that it was Mr. Squirrel's turn. Mr. Squirrel coughed twice and straightened his vest before he began, so they knew his poem wasn't to be funny.

THE FOOLISH LITTLE LAD

BY MR. GRAY SQUIRREL

Once on a time, the story goes, A silly squirrel lad One summer day did run away-- Which made his ma feel bad.

She hunted for him up and down And round and round she ran-- Alas, that foolish squirrel boy Was caught by Mr. Man.

For he had tried to climb a tree As Mr. Man came past.

”I'll make you climb!” said Mr. Man, And walked home pretty fast.

When he got there a boy came out As Mr. Man went in.

That silly squirrel soon was put Into a house of tin.

”Now you can climb!” said Mr. Man, But when he did he found That nice tin house, so bright and new, Turned round and round and round.

And there he climbs and climbs all day And never seems to stop, And I have heard my mother say He'll never reach the top.

When Mr. Squirrel sat down there wasn't a dry eye in the room, and even Mr. Dog outside was affected. He said he'd seen that poor little squirrel at Mr. Man's house turning and turning away in his tin wheel, and felt so sorry for him that two or three times he'd tried to get him out. He said, though, that Mr. Man had always caught him at it and that then they didn't get on well for a day or two. He was so tender hearted, though, he said, that he couldn't help pitying the little fellow, climbing and climbing all day long and never getting anywhere. Mr.

'Possum s.h.i.+vered, and said it reminded him of bad dreams he'd had sometimes, when he'd eaten too much supper, and dreamed of climbing the rainbow. Then they all sat still and waited for Mr. Turtle, who came next.

MY SNUG HOUSE

BY D'LAND TURTLE

Oh, what do I care for your houses of wood, Your houses of brick or of stone, When I have a house that is cozy and good-- A beautiful house of my own?

And the doors will not sag and the roof will not crack Of the house that I carry about on my back.

It is never too large and 'tis never too small, It is with me wherever I roam.

In spring or in summer, in winter or fall, I always can find my way home.

For it isn't so hard to remember the track To the house that you carry about on your back.

Well, of course, everybody applauded that, and then it was Mr. 'c.o.o.n's time. Mr. 'c.o.o.n said he was like Mr. 'Possum. He wasn't much on poetry, and only had four lines. He said they were some like Mr. 'Possum's too.

THE BEST THINGS

BY Z. 'c.o.o.n