Cries little Miss Fret,
In a very great pet:
‘I hate this warm weather;
it’s horrid to tan!
It scorches my nose,
And it blisters my toes,
And wherever I go I must
carry a fan.’
Chirps little Miss Laugh,
‘Why, I couldn’t tell half
The fun I am having this
bright summer day!
I sing through the hours,
I cull pretty flowers,
And ride like a queen on the
sweet-smelling hay.’