"Yes, I could," said Midget, contentedly, "'cept when I've just had
enough. And I do feel like eating, but I feel like singing, too."

"You can't do both at once," said her brother.

"No, but I can do first one and then the other. Now I'll tell you,
Father, what to do. You make a little song for us, while I eat this
apple. A kind of a little motor song, you know."

So while Marjorie ate her apple, and the other children engaged in the
same pursuit, Mr. Maynard made a little song for them.

This was a favorite game of the Maynards. Father Maynard had a knack of
turning off verses, and they usually sang them to some well-known air, or
perhaps made up a little crooning tune of their own.

So when the apples were finished and the cores flung away, Mr. Maynard
lined out his little song, and the children quickly learned it.

After two or three attempts they were able to sing it correctly, and they
stowed it away in their memory as one of their favorite songs, and at
intervals throughout the day their young voices filled the air with these
sentiments:

"Very happy the Maynards are;
Taking a tour in their motor car
Gaily to Grandma's lickety-split
Marjorie, Rosamond, Kingdon, and Kit
Mothery, fathery, also along,--