"Ba-a-a-a!" said the goat.

Then the little girl took hold of its hair with one hand, pulled at the
garter with the other, and said prettily: "Come, now, goat, you shall
go into the sitting-room and eat from mother's dish and my apron."

And then she sang,--

"Come, boy's pretty goatie,
Come, calf, my delight,
Come here, mewing pussie,
In shoes snowy white,
Yellow ducks, from your shelter,
Come forth, helter-skelter.
Come, doves, ever beaming,
With soft feathers gleaming!
The grass is still wet,
But sun 't will soon get;
Now call, though early 't is in the summer,
And autumn will be the new-comer."[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation.]

There the boy stood.

He had taken care of the goat ever since winter, when it was born, and
it had never occurred to him that he could lose it; but now it was gone
in an instant, and he would never see it again.