THERE is a country, which I will show you when I get into maps,
where the children have everything their own way. It is a most
delightful country to live in. The grown-up people are obliged to
obey the children, and are never allowed to sit up to supper,
except on their birthdays. The children order them to make jam and
jelly and marmalade, and tarts and pies and puddings, and all
manner of pastry. If they say they won't, they are put in the
corner till they do. They are sometimes allowed to have some; but
when they have some, they generally have powders given them
afterwards.

One of the inhabitants of this country, a truly sweet young
creature of the name of Mrs. Orange, had the misfortune to be sadly
plagued by her numerous family. Her parents required a great deal
of looking after, and they had connections and companions who were
scarcely ever out of mischief. So Mrs. Orange said to herself, 'I
really cannot be troubled with these torments any longer: I must
put them all to school.'

Mrs. Orange took off her pinafore, and dressed herself very nicely,
and took up her baby, and went out to call upon another lady of the
name of Mrs. Lemon, who kept a preparatory establishment. Mrs.
Orange stood upon the scraper to pull at the bell, and give a ring-
ting-ting.

Mrs. Lemon's neat little housemaid, pulling up her socks as she
came along the passage, answered the ring-ting-ting.

'Good-morning,' said Mrs. Orange. 'Fine day. How do you do? Mrs.