"She'll come by-and-by."
"You will never see her."
"She went home to dies,
"Till the new year."
"Snowdrop!" "'Tis no good
To invite her."
"Primrose is very rude,
"I will bite her."
"Oh, you naughty Pocket!
"Look, she drops her head."
"She deserved it, Rocket,
"And she was nearly dead."
"To your hammock--off with you!"
"And swing alone."
"No one will laugh with you."
"No, not one."
"Now let us moan."
"And cover her o'er."
"Primrose is gone."
"All but the flower."
"Here is a leaf."
"Lay her upon it."
"Follow in grief."
"Pocket has done it."
"Deeper, poor creature!
Winter may come."
"He cannot reach her--
That is a hum."
"She is buried, the beauty!"
"Now she is done."
"That was the duty."
"Now for the fun."
And with a wild laugh they sprang away, most of them towards the
cottage. During the latter part of the song-talk, they had formed
themselves into a funeral procession, two of them bearing poor Primrose,
whose death Pocket had hastened by biting her stalk, upon one of her
own great leaves. They bore her solemnly along some distance, and
then buried her under a tree. Although I say HER I saw nothing but
the withered primrose-flower on its long stalk. Pocket, who had been
expelled from the company by common consent, went sulkily away towards
her hammock, for she was the fairy of the calceolaria, and looked rather
wicked. When she reached its stem, she stopped and looked round. I could
not help speaking to her, for I stood near her. I said, "Pocket, how
could you be so naughty?"
"I am never naughty," she said, half-crossly, half-defiantly; "only if
you come near my hammock, I will bite you, and then you will go away."
"Why did you bite poor Primrose?"
"Because she said we should never see Snowdrop; as if we were not good
enough to look at her, and she was, the proud thing!--served her right!"
"Oh, Pocket, Pocket," said I; but by this time the party which had
gone towards the house, rushed out again, shouting and screaming with
laughter. Half of them were on the cat's back, and half held on by her
fur and tail, or ran beside her; till, more coming to their help, the
furious cat was held fast; and they proceeded to pick the sparks out
of her with thorns and pins, which they handled like harpoons. Indeed,
there were more instruments at work about her than there could have
been sparks in her. One little fellow who held on hard by the tip of
the tail, with his feet planted on the ground at an angle of forty-five
degrees, helping to keep her fast, administered a continuous flow of
admonitions to Pussy.