I used to play a great deal out in the old pasture. It had a clump of
cradle-knolls in it. A cradle-knoll is a little mound of moss.
On these mossy little cradle-knolls, checkerberry leaves and berries
used to grow. How delicious those spicy young checkerberry leaves
tasted! And we hunted those red plums as a cat hunts a mouse!
The pasture had two or three well-beaten paths in it, that the cows had
made by their sober steady tramping back and forth from the barnyard
lane to the growth of little trees and bushes and tender grass at the
back. At sunset-time, two little barefooted girls would “spat” along
those cool smooth winding paths after those cows.
As long as we kept in the paths our little feet were all right. But
sometimes a clump of bright wild-flowers tempted us, and then two sorry
little girls with thistle-prickles in their feet would come limping
back. But out where the tender grasses grew there were no thistles, and
such fun as hide-and-seek used to be among the bushes!
Sometimes we could not find the cows very readily; and then we would
climb up on a smutty stump and call, “co’ boss! co’ boss!” until the
woods rang.
In the spring, we would go a-maying out in the old pasture, and O, such
great handfuls of the sweet mayflower as we used to bring home! Later
on, we would gather great bunches of sweet-smelling herbs that grew wild
out there, and carry them home to hang up in the shed-chamber and dry.
If one of my schoolmates had been unkind to me, I would go out into the
old pasture, and there I would plan out for myself a lovely future
wherein I should be _very_ rich and _very_ good to the poor. And my
unkind schoolmate would be one of the humble receivers of my gifts, and
so it would come about that before I got through building air-castles I
would actually feel sorry for the poor schoolmate who had ill-used me.
And then home I would go, singing and skipping!
_Percia V. White._
[Illustration: “CO’ BOSS!! CO’ BOSS!”]
Little Mother Hubbard.
[Music]
1. Lit-tle Mo-ther Hub-bard sat
In the park at play, With her gown and point-ed hat All of so-ber
gray. And she looked so wondrous wise That I scarce be-lieved my eyes;
And she looked so wondrous wise That I scarce believed my eyes.
2. Pug no long-er frisked a-bout,
For he felt the loss Of his sup-per and his cake, So was tired and
cross. And this self-ish lit-tle pug Wished himself up-on his rug;
And this self-ish lit-tle pug Wished himself up-on his rug.
3. Mo-ther Hub-bard hur-ried home,
Say-ing, “Mer-cy me! Pug shall have some frost-ed cake And a cup of
tea.” But the cake was eat-en up And the nurse had lost his cup;
But the cake was eat-en up, And the nurse had lost his cup.
[Illustration: PILLOW·LAND]