scalded her to death.

Then Tatty sat down and wept; then a three-legged stool said: "Tatty,
why do you weep?" "Titty's dead," said Tatty, "and so I weep." "Then,"
said the stool, "I'll hop," so the stool hopped.

Then a broom in the corner of the room said: "Stool, why do you hop?"
"Oh!" said the stool, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop."
"Then," said the broom, "I'll sweep," so the broom began to sweep.

"Then," said the door, "Broom, why do you sweep?" "Oh!" said the broom,
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep."
"Then," said the door, "I'll jar," so the door jarred.

"Then," said the window, "Door, why do you jar?" "Oh," said the door,
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps,
and so I jar."

"Then," said the window, "I'll creak," so the window creaked. Now there
was an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the form
said: "Window, why do you creak?" "Oh!" said the window, "Titty's dead,
and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door
jars, and so I creak."

"Then," said the old form, "I'll run round the house"; then the old form
ran round the house. Now there was a fine large walnut-tree growing by
the cottage, and the tree said to the form: "Form, why do you run round
the house?" "Oh!" said the form, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the
stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks,
and so I run round the house."

"Then," said the walnut-tree, "I'll shed my leaves," so the walnut-tree
shed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perched
on one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said:
"Walnut-tree, why do you shed your leaves?" "Oh!" said the tree,
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps,
the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house,
and so I shed my leaves."

"Then," said the little bird, "I'll moult all my feathers," so he
moulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking
below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers' and sisters' supper, and
when she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she said:
"Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?" "Oh!" said the little
bird, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom
sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round
the house, the walnut-tree sh