WHAT KATY DID

“Were you once little too?” they say, astonished; “Did you too play? How funny! tell us how.” Almost we start, forgetful for a moment; Almost we answer, “We are little now! “ Dear friend and lover, whom To-day we christen, Forgive such brief bewilderment, – thy true And kindly hand we hold; we own thee fairest. But ah! our yesterday was precious too. So, darlings, take this little childish story, In which some gleams of the old sunshine play, And, as with careless hands you turn the pages, Look back and smile, as here I smile to-day.

Chapter I.
The Little Carrs

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I was sitting in the meadows one day, not long ago, at a place where there was a small brook. It was a hot day. The sky was very blue, and white clouds, like great swans, went floating over it to and fro. Just opposite me was a clump of green rushes, with dark velvety spikes, and among them one single tall, red cardinal flower, which was bending over the brook as if to see its own beautiful face in the water. But the cardinal did not seem to be vain.

The picture was so pretty that I sat a long time enjoying it. Suddenly, close to me, two small voices began to talk – or to sing, for I couldn’t tell exactly which it was. One voice was shrill; the other, which was a little deeper, sounded very positive and cross. They were evidently disputing about something, for they said the same words over and over again. These were the words – “Katy did.” “Katy didn’t.” “She did.” “She didn’t.” “She did.” “She didn’t.” “Did.” “Didn’t.” I think they must have repeated them at least a hundred times.

I got up from my seat to see if I could find the speakers; and sure enough, there on one of the cat-tail bulrushes, I spied two tiny pale-green creatures. Their eyes seemed to be weak, for they both wore black goggles. They had six legs apiece, – two short ones, two not so short, and two very long. These last legs had joints like the springs to buggy-tops; and as I watched, they began walking up the rush, and then I saw that they moved exactly like an old-fashioned gig. In fact, if I hadn’t been too big, I think I should have heard them creak as they went along. They didn’t say anything so long as I was there, but the moment my back was turned they began to quarrel again, and in the same old words – “Katy did.” “Katy didn’t.” “She did.” “She didn’t.”

As I walked home I fell to thinking about another Katy, – a Katy I once knew, who planned to do a great many wonderful things, and in the end did none of them, but something quite different, – something she didn’t like at all at first, but which, on the whole, was a great deal better than any of the doings she had dreamed about. And as I thought, this story grew in my head, and I resolved to write it down for you. I have done it; and, in memory of my two little friends on the bulrush, I give it

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