Lucy, John, and Fanny are standing in a group, talking. Enter roguish little Belle, with her dress torn, her apron soiled, her hair in disorder, and her face covered with traces of tears. She has a torn book in her hand.

Lucy-O Belle, just look at your new dressit is all torn!

Fanny-And your clean apron! What have you on it? And your book is all in pieces!

John-You'll catch it!

Belle (half crying)—I don't care if I do! I couldn't help it. I was only playing with Carlo, and he knocked me over, right into the mud; and then he trampled on me with his muddy paws; and then he ran away with my book, and tore it. I wish I were a big dog, and I'd pay him

for it!

Lucy-What would you do to him, Belle?
Belle-I'd-I'd bark at him, and I'd—I'd

bark

John-Whew! what a fierce dog you would be!-wouldn't you, Belle?

Fanny (laughing)-I'm afraid you wouldn't make anything but a little curly-haired puppy; and then you'd get the worst of it in a tussle with Carlo.

John-I'm sure your bark would be worse than your bite.

Belle (half laughing)-I guess you'd find out whether it would or not! Wouldn't I worry your heels, though!-and gnaw holes in your playthings!—and tear up your books!

John-Ah, yes! But, you see, I'd whisper something to the dog-man; and then, some fine morning when the family were all asleep, he would drive up, take you out of the kennel, put you into his wagon, and away you'd go to the dog-pound, and that would be the last of that dog!

Fanny That reminds me of a poem I learned the other day, about a little girl who wished she were the lamb that followed Mary to school. Let me see (putting her hand to her head), how

does that poem run? Oh, yes! this is it. She says:

"That lamb had easy times, indeed;

And all the lambs do, as for that:
They never have to write and read,

Or learn their notes with sharp and flat;
They don't wear out their frocks and shoes,
And needn't mind their p's and q's.

"Out in the pleasant meadow-lot

They nibble clover-heads all day,
Or lie down in a shady spot

To sleep when they are tired of play.
Nobody says to them, 'My dear,

What dirty face and hands are here!""

Belle That little girl was just right! I wish I didn't have to wear nice dresses, and could play in the meadow-lot all day. I think I should like to be a lamb.

Fanny-Take care, Belle! Wait until you hear what happened to that little girl before you turn into a lamb. One day she fell asleep in her chair, and dreamed that she was a snow-white lamb, running about in a clover-field. She was greatly delighted, and skipped about, and said to herself, "Ah, but isn't this nice!"

Then she tried to clap her hands, and shout; but, you see, she was only a lamb, and could not.

She could only frisk and jump, and bleat, "Ba-a! ba-a!" Then suddenly she saw, coming across the meadow, the butcher-man, and he was running toward her to catch her.

She tried to scream, and she tried to run, but she was so frightened she could not move. On came the frightful butcher-man, and, just as he caught her, she gave a sudden jump and scream. The jump waked her up, and the scream frightened her mother, who came running to see what was the matter. Then the poem goes on:

"She sat bolt upright in her chair;
She stared around in wild surprise,

And pulled her curling yellow hair,

And rubbed her sleepy, wondering eyes.

'O dear!' she cried, 'how glad I am
That I am really not a lamb!'

"A lamb!'-her mother laughed outright

At such a very queer excuse;
'If that's the reason of your fright,
I think you are a little goose!'
'You wouldn't,' sobbed poor silly Nan,
'If you had seen that butcher-man !""

John-Ha! ha! ha! What do you think of that, Belle?

Belle-I think it would be very nice to play in the clover-fields. I wish I could be a little

girl and a lamb too! Mamma calls me her lamb sometimes.

Lucy-That's a good idea, Belle!-But, Fanny, we must go to school.-Good-by, Belle! I'll tell you what to do: Run to mother and tell her all about it, and ask her to take you into the country to-day and let you play in the fields, just as if you were a lamb. Only, she must be sure to bring you safe home to-night, for fear, you know, of that dreadful butcher-man! Goodby, dear!

Fanny and John-Good-by, Belle!

Little Belle (with dignity)—Good morning, all!

The following words and phrases are often mispronounced. Copy them, and mark their pronunciation with the diacritical marks: