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I know I never looked like this before, and I hope I never shall again." "Tut, tut!" said Mrs. Meadows; "don't get to mooning around here. You might look better, but you don't look so bad. It will all come right on wash-day, as the woman said when she put her dress on wrong side outwards. Here comes Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes. They'll be glad to see you, no matter how you look."
"'Chickamy, Chickamy Crany Crow, Went to the well to wash her toe, And when she came back her chicken was gone. That's the rhyme we say in the game, but we never heard the story." "I can't tell it to so many," said Chickamy Crany Crow. "Well, tell it to me, then," replied Mrs. Meadows coaxingly. "The rest won't listen any more than they can help."
Chickamy Crany Crow had two sticks, and with these she was playing on an imaginary fiddle. Tickle-My-Toes had the broom, and this, he pretended, was a banjo. The two queer-looking creatures wagged their heads from side to side and patted the ground with their feet, just as though they were making sure-enough music, and presently Tickle-My-Toes sang this song to a very lively tune:
"'Thanky, granny; that I will, says I. "So I went to the well, but when I came back my chicken was gone. And so was the old woman, and the quagmire. But I didn't get frightened. I went back to the well and began to sing, "'Chickamy, Chickamy Crany Crow, I went to the well to wash my toe, But when I came back my chicken was gone What o'clock, old witch?
Meadows was in a better humor. "This," she said, as the queer-looking girl came forward, "is Chickamy Crany Crow, and this," as the very queer-looking boy came timidly up, "is Tickle-My-Toes." They bowed, and then went off a little way, looking very solemn and comical. They didn't dare glance at each other for fear they would begin laughing again.
"They want everything to happen just so; even a thief must be a big man if he's in a story; but I don't believe anybody ever stole anything yet without getting into trouble about it." "Who is that crying?" Mr. Rabbit suddenly exclaimed. "I hear no crying," said Mrs. Meadows. "I certainly thought I heard crying," persisted Mr. Rabbit. "It is Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes singing. Listen!"
The clock struck one And bowed to the sun; But the sun was fast asleep you know; And the moon was quick, With her oldtime trick To hide from Chick Chickamy Chickamy Crany Crow! Chickamy what? and Chickamy which? She went to the well and fell in the ditch; What o'clock, old Witch? Oh, sad to tell!
"What for?" asked Buster John bluntly. "Well, I hardly know," replied Chickamy Crany Crow, somewhat embarrassed at the suddenness of the question. "I wanted to get even with her for stealing my fat chicken. I hardly knew what I was doing, and I certainly didn't know how it would turn out.
"Oh," answered Chickamy Crany Crow, smiling for the first time, "there are plenty of names in the books that you never hear of; but now, wherever little children get together to play games, you will hear them saying the rhyme that tells a part of my story, "'Chickamy, Chickamy Crany Crow, Went to the well to wash her toe, But when she got back her chicken was gone."
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