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Updated: June 12, 2025
The Lory said that he had one at home, but he had forgotten to bring it. "You can't make anything out of these Wonderland creatures," said Miss Muffet. "I can't really feel that they are animals I have known, though of course I know their names." When Bagheera was asked his opinion, he only growled that it was all in the day's work. But wise old Baloo answered: "It all depends on grammar."
Whistler told a pretty story related by Muffet, a good author, of Dr. Caius, that built Keys College; that, being very old, and living only at that time upon woman's milk, he, while he fed upon the milk of an angry, fretful woman, was so himself; and then, being advised to take it of a good-natured, patient woman, he did become so, beyond the common temper of his age.
"I must ask Merry, and may be father will let me go with her and her mother when they do their shopping, instead of leaving it to Miss Bat, who dresses me like an old woman. Merry knows what is pretty and becoming: I don't," thought Molly, meditating in the bushel basket, with her eyes on her snuff-colored gown and the dark purple bow at the end of the long braid Muffet had been playing with.
"What about Mr. Henty's boys?" said the spider; "there are so many of them." "There seem to be a great many of them," said Miss Muffet, "but I've sometimes thought that there may be only two, only they live in different centuries and go to different wars. Boys can do that, can't they, Mr. Spider, if they are very brave?"
You take eleven hundred little girls in blue dresses and make them fill out blanks. You ask them which they like best, chocolate caramels or peppermint drops." "Which do they like best?" asked Miss Muffet, who had often thought about that question herself. "You can't tell," answered the Little Old Woman; "all you know is the answers: they depend on which words the little girls can spell easiest.
I 'low dat rabbit's stuffed." "But, Uncle Remus," said Miss Muffet, "perhaps you will like the Fables better when you get acquainted with them. I'm sure they have always borne a good reputation. And now I should like to introduce you to Mr. Esop; it's such a pleasure to bring together people of the same tastes. Mr. Esop, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Remus.
Miss Muffet closed her eyes, and had already begun to dream of curds and whey, when all at once she was awakened and found herself in a most wonderful palace. The walls and floors were made of the sheerest, filmiest spider's-web, woven into a thousand delicate patterns. A soft light shone through the tapestries, and the dewdrops on the roof sparkled like diamonds.
Muffet, who wasn't quick at mental arithmetic, "but you'll see that there are quite a considerable number of seconds in Christmas Day quite enough for any growing child." So at Christmas time Mrs. Muffet would go out to visit the neighbors, leaving the little girl seated on a very uncomfortable tuffet, to meditate on the passage of time. Perhaps some of you would like to know what a tuffet is.
Toddlekins, the little aunt, was the image of her mother, and very sedate even at that early age; Miss Muffet, so called from her dread of spiders, was a timid black and white kit; Beauty, a pretty Maltese, with a serene little face and pink nose; Ragbag, a funny thing, every color that a cat could be; and Scamp, who well deserved his name, for he was the plague of Miss Bat's life, and Molly's especial pet.
When they were out of the care of Muffet, who was everything that a nurse ought to be, they passed into the care of a resident governess, Miss Prescott, who was a children's governess, not for the old and fatuous reason that she "loved children," but for the new and intelligent reason that she was attracted by the child-mind as a study and was certificated and diplomaed in the study of children as an exact science, Child Welfare as she called it.
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