Then Ethelwyn came forward. "This is my poem," she said, bowing to the
audience.

"A little girl lived way down East,
She rose and rose, like bread with yeast,
She rose above the tallest people,
And far above the highest steeple.
She kept right on till by and by
She took a peek into the sky--"

"Oh, what did she see?" asked Elizabeth, interested at once.

"That you can guess," replied the poet with dignity. "Mother says she
likes poems and pictures that you can put something into from your own
something or other, I forget what--you let folks guess about it."

"My sister is smart," complacently remarked Elizabeth to Nan, who had
just come over.

"So am I, then," said Nan, not to be outdone. "I can make up beautiful
poems."

"Let's hear one."

So Nan came forward, bowed profoundly and began:

"I have a little kitty,
Who is so very pretty,
Tho' growing large and fat,
I fear she'll be a cat.