For the doll that was choicest we offered a prize:
There were wee mites of dollies, and some of great size.
Some came in rich purple, some lilac, some white,
With ribbons and laces,--a wonderful sight!

Now, there was one dolly, so tall and so proud,
She put all the others quite under a cloud;
But one of us hinted, in so many words,
That sometimes fine feathers do not make fine birds.

[Illustration: The Doll-Baby Show]

We sat in a row, with our dolls in our laps:
The dolls behaved sweetly, and met no mishaps.
No boys were admitted; for boys will make fun:
Now which do you think was the dolly that won?

Soon all was commotion to hear who would get
The prize; for the dollies' committee had met:
We were the committee; and which do you think
Was the doll we decided on, all in a wink?

Why, each of us said that our own was the best,
The finest, the sweetest, the prettiest drest:
So we _all_ got the prize--we'll invite you to go
The next time we girls have our doll-baby show.

GEORGE COOPER.

THE CHICKENS THAT WERE WISER THAN LOTTIE.

Lottie is always asking, "Why?"

When mamma calls from the window, "Lottie, Lottie!" she answers, very
pleasantly, "What, ma'am?" for she hopes mamma will say, "Here's a nice
turnover for you;" or, "Cousin Alice has come to see you." But when the
answer is "It is time to come in," the wrinkles appear on Lottie's
forehead, and her voice is a very different one, as she says, "Oh, dear,
I don't want to! _Why_ need I come in now?"

When papa says, "Little daughter, I want you to do an errand for me,"
Lottie whines, and asks, "_Why_ can't Benny do it?"

Out in the field Old Biddy Brown has four wee chickens, little soft
downy balls, scarcely bigger than the eggs they came from just one week
ago.

They are very spry, and run all about. When the mother Biddy finds any
nice bit, she clucks; and every little chick comes running to see what
is wanting.

When it grows chilly, and she fears they will take cold, she says,
"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" and they all run under her warm feathers as fast
as they can.

Just now Mother Biddy gave a very loud call, and every chicken was under
her wings in a minute; and up in the sky I saw a hawk, who had been
planning to make a good dinner of these same chickens. I could not help
thinking, how well for them, that they did not stop, like Lottie, to
ask, "Why?"