Tree. And it sang a sad little Song. Oo never heard such a sad little Song!"
"Can you sing it, Bruno ? " I asked.
"Iss, I can," Bruno readily replied. "And I sa'n't. It would make Sylvie cry——"
"It wouldn't!" Sylvie interrupted in great indignation. "And I don't believe the Goat sang it at all!"
"It did, though!" said Bruno. "It singed it right froo. I sawed it singing with its long beard——"
"It couldn't sing with its beard," I said, hoping to puzzle the little fellow: "a beard isn't a voice."
"Well then, oo couldn't walk with Sylvie!" Bruno cried triumphantly. "Sylvie isn't a foot!"
I thought I had better follow Sylvie's example, and be silent for a while. Bruno was too sharp for us.
"And when it had singed all the Song, it ran away——for to get along to look for the Man, oo know. And the Crocodile got along after it——for to bite it, oo know. And the Mouse got along after the Crocodile."
