a
Can ever dissever the good from the bad
In the soul of Annabel Lee,
The beautiful Annabel Lee.

Then Mr. Stevenson went out into his own garden and plucked this:

In winter, I go up at night
And curl that curl by candle-light;
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to curl it twice a day.

When I am good, I seem to be
As good as peaches on the tree;
But when I'm bad I've awful ways,
I'm horrid, everybody says.

And does it not seem hard to you,
I have to choose between the two?
When I'm not happy, good and glad,
I have to be so awful bad!

Mr. Kipling took a real interest in the work and produced the following:

"What is the gas-stove going for?"
Asked Files-On-Parade.
"To curl my hair, to curl my hair?"
His Little Sister said.

"What makes you curl so tight, so tight?"
Asked Files-On-Parade.
"I'm thinkin' 'twill be damp to-night,"
His Little Sister said.

"For you know that when I'm good, I'm just as good as I can be.
And when I'm bad, there's nobody can be as bad as me.
So I'm thinkin' I'll be very good to-night, because, you see,
I'm thinkin' I'll be horrid in the morning."

Mr. Hood was in a reminiscent mood, so he looked backward:

I remember, I remember,
That curl I used to wear;
It cost a dollar ninety-eight
(It was the best of hair).
It always stayed right in its place,
It never went astray;
But now, I sometimes wish the wind
Had blown that curl away.

I remember, I remember,
How good I used to be;
Why, St. Cecelia at her best
Was not as good as me.
I never tore my pinafore,
Or got my slippers wet;
I let my brother steal my cake--
That boy is living yet!

I remember, I remember,
How bad I've sometimes been;
How all my little childish tricks
Were counted fearful sin.
I'm glad I cut up, anyway,
But still 'tis little joy
To know I could have played worse pranks
If I had been a boy.

Mr. Wordsworth took it quietly:

I met a gentle Little Girl,
She was sixteen years, _she said_;
Her hair was thick; that same old curl
Was hanging from her head.

"You're very, very good, you say;
And you look good to me,
Yet you are bad. Tell me, I pray,
Sweet maid, how that may be?"

Then did the Little Girl reply
(The curl bobbed on her forehead),
"When I am good, I'm good as pie,
And when I'm bad, I'm horrid."