I found my poor little doll, dears, As I played in the heath one day: Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, For her paint is all washed away, And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears, And her hair not the least bit curled: Yet, for old sakes’ sake she is still, dears, The prettiest doll in the world.
What a silly song for a fairy to sing!
And what silly water-babies to be quite delighted at it!
Well, but you see they have not the advantage of Aunt Agitate’s Arguments in the sea-land down below.
“Now,” said the fairy to Tom, “will you be a good boy for my sake, and torment no more sea-beasts till I come back?”
“And you will cuddle me again?” said poor little Tom.
“Of course I will, you little duck. I should like to take you with me and cuddle you all the way, only I must not;” and away she went.
So Tom really tried to be a good boy, and tormented no sea-beasts after that as long as he lived; and he is quite alive, I assure you, still.
Oh, how good little boys ought to be who have kind pussy mammas to cuddle them and tell them stories; and how afraid they ought to be of growing naughty, and bringing tears into their mammas’ pretty eyes!