Technical
LITTLE Alicia, aged five, who has occasionally witnessed a quiet family game, electrified the minister's family, while lunching there the other day, by innocently remarking, as she indicated the sliced beets with a tiny forefinger,
"I will take a stack of those reds, if you please."
Unusual
THE head of the house had telephoned that he would bring home a guest to luncheon—and a guest whom his wife realized that he would delight to honor. Preparations were made accordingly, with results satisfactory to her hospitable and housewifely heart. Unfortunately, six-year-old Dorothy came in a trifle late. Sweeping the table with one all-embracing glance, "Hum!" she queried, audibly, as she climbed into her chair. "Is this lunch?"
"Why, of course it's luncheon, Dorothy," her mother hastily intervened, with a repressive gesture.
But Dorothy was not to be stayed. "Well," she returned, incredulously, "maybe it is, but it looks exactly like Sunday dinner!" E. L. G. C.
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Inexperience
The Bride. "I want something for dinner. I think I'll take about a quarter of a pound of roast beef."
Grocerman. "Sorry, lady, but we don't keep meat. Can't I sell you a large-sized bean?"
The Moon Voyage
DO you know, little tad, when the moon is full
And the pine-bush sighs and quivers,
The night elves come and gently pull
A hood over hills and rivers.
It's a great wet hood of misty gray
That spreads from the swamp lagoon;
And grown folks say
It's the passageway—
That leads up to the moon.
There are wee moon-men, I've oft heard tell,
And it's easy to see them sliding.
When bats creep out of the old church bell
And witches on brooms are riding.
It is then they slide and slide and slide
Straight down from the bright moon land;
On a breeze they ride
To your little bedside—
That small and merry moon band.
They carry a spool of silver strands
Like the spider's web in the willow;
And they tie your feet and they tie your hands
And they lift you up from the pillow.
They bundle you up from head to toe
So you can't wake up too soon;
The night winds blow
And away you go—
On a trip to the far-off moon.
There's fun 'way up on the big round moon
And wee lads are in clover;
For every day is a day in June
And playtime's never over.
There are horns and horses and rabbits and hounds—
And oceans of candy and cream;
And circus grounds
And merry-go-rounds—
All free in this land of dream.
