I know a little maiden,
Whom I always see arrayed in
Silks and ribbons, but she is a spoiled and petted little elf;
For she never helps her mother, or her sister, or her brother,
But, forgetting all around her, lives entirely for herself:
So she simpers, and she sighs,
And she mopes, and she cries,
And knows not where the happy hours flee.
Now let me tell you privately, my darling little friends,
She's as miserable as miserable can be,
And I fear she's not the little maid for me.
But I know another maiden,
Whom I've often seen arrayed in
Silks and ribbons, but not always: she's a prudent little elf;
And she always helps her mother, and her sister, and her brother,
And lives for all around her, quite regardless of herself:
So she laughs and she sings,
And the hours on happy wings,
Shower gladness round her pathway as they flee.
Now need I tell you privately, my darling little friends,
She's as happy as a little maid can be?
This is surely just the little maid for me.
[Illustration: ONE,]
[Illustration: TWO,]
[Illustration: THREE,]
[Illustration: DOWN GOES SHE!]