One day Johnny followed Mamma up into the attic, where there are all
kinds of pleasant things, and he saw a very pleasant thing indeed. It
was a small dish, white with pink roses all over it; really and truly,
it was the prettiest dish that ever was. Johnny said, “O-o-oh! may I
have that dish for mine?”
Mamma looked, and then she took the dish in her hand and thought a
minute. Mamma always likes to be sure about things before she says
“Yes!” for fear it might not really be “yes” after all. But now she
nodded her head, and said, “Yes, Johnny, you may have it.”
“O-oh!” said Johnny. “For my welly own?”
“For your very own. The rest of the set is broken, and I have just kept
this dish because it is so pretty. Now you may take it down into the
nursery, and have it for a bath for Flora.”
[Illustration: “NOW HE GAVE HER ONE IN THE ROSY-POSY DISH.”]
Flora was a small doll, all china, and her clothes came off, so she
could have a bath any time, and Johnny often gave her one. Now he gave
her one in the rosy-posy dish, and it was just exactly the right size,
and Johnny was so pleased, and said, “Oh, thank you, _dear_ Mamma!”
without having to be told. (Sometimes he forgets to say “thank you,”
but he is getting to be quite good about it.)
The next time Johnny went down-stairs, he took the doll’s bath to show
to Maggie, and she said ’twas the pick of the world for a dish, and
asked Johnny to lave her bake a cake in it; but Johnny said no, not
now, though perhaps by and by, for now he must take it out to show
to Muffy. Muffet was out in the sand-box, and when Johnny showed her
the dish she mewed and rubbed against his legs, and seemed to want
something very much.
“Maggie,” said Johnny, “Muffy wants something! What do you suppose it
is?”
“Sure she might be wanting a sup o’ milk!” said Maggie. “Bring me here
the grand dish and we’ll give the crature a sup in itself, and won’t
she be the proud kitty!” that is the way Maggie talks; it is a nice,
funny way, Johnny thinks.
Well! so Maggie filled the pretty dish with milk, and Johnny set it
down in the sand box before Muffet, and she lapped it up, every single
drop, purring all the time. Johnny was watching her when Mamma called
him in to take his nap. Muffet had not quite finished, so he left the
dish standing, and ran in to Mamma, and then he went for his nap. When
he woke up it was raining hard, and it rained all the afternoon, so he
did not go out again, but stayed in the nursery building a Choo Choo
House. The next morning was bright and clear, and the very first thing
Johnny thought of, when he had had his bath, and Mamma was dressing
him, was the rosy posy dish.
“I wants my diss,” said Johnny, “to give Flora her bath!”
So Mamma looked for the dish, all over the nursery, but it was not to
be found.
“Where did you leave it, Johnny Boy?” said Mamma. “Think a minute!”
So Johnny thought a minute, and then he remembered. “I left it in the
sand box,” he said. “Muffy was very thirsty, and she was drinking out
of it, and you called me, and she hadn’t finished, and so, you see—and
so, you see—”
And Mamma said she saw. Then she looked out of the window, and said
yes, there was the dish, right in the sand box, beside the red tin pail
and the blue tin pail and the old kitchen spoon. Then she said, “Oh!
oh, Johnny, come here and look!”
So Johnny went to the window, and stood on his tippy-toe-toes, and
looked; and what do you think he saw? A little brown sparrow had come
fluttering down, and was drinking out of the rosy posy dish. (You see,
it had rained all night, so the dish was full of water.) He perched on
the edge, and dipped his little beak in, and drank and drank; he must
have been very thirsty. And then—oh! oh! what did he do but hop down
_into_ the dish, and begin taking his bath! He splashed, and he shook
himself, and rustled his feathers, and then he splashed again. “Oh!”
said Johnny. “Oh! Mamma, he is doing it all himself. Nobody told him
to, not one bit.”
[Illustration]
“No, indeed!” said Mamma. “He likes to take his bath and be clean, just
as Johnny does. He knows it feels good to be clean.”
“Mamma!” said Johnny. “I want to tell you something. Shall we have
something else for Flora, and let the rosy posy dish be the sparrow’s
bath, his ownty donty?”
“Suppose we do!” said Mamma. And they did.