Children’s Rhymes

“Mother,” Polly says to her mother one day, “we want to play writers. Will you play with us?”

“I don’t know how to play,” Mrs. Dale answers.

“You take a pencil and a copybook and begin to write a rhyme; that’s all,” Polly says.

“Very well then, I’ll play too,” Polly’s mother says. “And what prize shall we give for the best rhyme?”

“The winner must get a bar of chocolate,” the girl says.

“And who will give the prize to the winner?” Mrs. Dale asks.

“Of course, it will be you, Mother. You’ll give it to the winner.”

“And if I win the prize myself?” Mrs. Dale asks, looking at Polly and smiling.

“Then you’ll eat that bar of chocolate yourself, Mother,” Polly says with a sly smile.

“Do I ever eat chocolate?” Mrs. Dale asks.

“No, you don’t. But then you’ll give the chocolate to me and Jimmy.”

When Sam, Lily and Hugh come to the Dales, Polly says to the boys:

“Boys, let us play writers. Mother will play too. The winner will get a bar of chocolate for the best rhyme.”

“I want to play writers too!” little Lily cries. “I’ll win the chocolate. I can make rhymes!”

“But you don’t know how to write,” Sam says.

“You’ll write the rhymes for me,” Lily says.

“Oh, no, I won’t. I’ll write my own rhymes,” her brother says angrily.

“Sit down here, Lily,” Mrs. Dale says. “I’ll help you, dear. Let’s try to win the prize!”

So all of them sit down, take pencils and copybooks and begin to write. They sit, and think, and write. The sun is high in the sky.

“Mrs. Dale, I’m ready,” Lily says.

“Oh, dear, but where are your rhymes?” Mrs. Dale asks.

“I know them by heart,” Lily says. “May I recite my rhyme?”

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Dale says.

Lily stands up and begins to recite her rhyme:

“Enough, enough!” the children shout. “Your rhyme is too long. Enough!”

“Very, very good,” Mrs. Dale says. Lily sits down.

“Now, Sam! I see you are ready,” Mrs. Dale says.

“Yes, I’m ready,” Sam says, rising. “May I begin?”

“Yes, begin, please,” the children cry.

“And that’s all,” Sam says.

“Very good!” Mrs. Dale says. “Who is next?”

“I’m also ready,” Hugh says, “but I have five rhymes. Shall I recite all of them?”

“Oh, you’re the winner,” Jim cries. “You have got five rhymes! The chocolate is yours!”

And Hugh begins:

“Here is my first rhyme,” he says.

“Here’s my second rhyme:”

“Here’s my third rhyme:”

“Here’s my fourth rhyme:”

“Here’s my fifth rhyme:”

“That’s enough, enough,” the children cry. Polly begins to giggle. Mrs. Dale tries not to smile.

“Good, Hugh. Now, Polly!” she says.

Polly rises to her feet and begins to recite her rhyme:

“And that’s all,” Polly says.

“Very good, dear,” her mother says. “Now, Jimmy. Are you ready?”

“No, I am not yet ready,” Jim says, continuing to work.

“Is your rhyme so long?” Polly asks.

“Yes, it is.” Jim does not look at his sister.

Then Mrs. Dale stands up and says:

“Children, do you know that book about squirrels?”

“Yes, we do. It’s about a mother squirrel and her babies,” the children cry.

“Yes, children. Well, I’ll recite you a lullaby. Mother Squirrel always sings it when she rocks her baby squirrels:

“Oh, what a good song,” Jimmy cries. “Mother is the winner! Mother is the winner!”

“No, dear. Now you must read your rhyme. We want to hear it very much.” And she takes Jimmy’s copybook.

“Oh, children, only look at it! What do you see here?” she cries.

“It’s me!” Lily cries.

“And here is Polly, sitting behind Hugh!”

“And there is Mother! Look, Mother, look! It’s you,” Polly cries.

“Oh, Jimmy, how well you draw!” the children cry.

“He is the winner! Jim is the winner!” Lily shouts. “Give him the chocolate, though he isn’t a writer!”

Jim takes his bar of chocolate and thanks Mrs. Dale.

“Thank you, Mother dear,” he says. Jimmy’s work is the best of all, and so he is the winner.