So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Cunning Black Ant.

“Oh, do help me, Cunning Black Ant!” sobbed Lesa.  “I have lost my comb, my golden comb.  What shall I do?  My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it.”

“I’ll go seek it,” said Cunning Black Ant.  “I will find your golden comb, have no fear.”

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Flitting Butterfly.

“Oh, do help me, Flitting Butterfly!” sobbed Lesa.  “I have lost my comb, my golden comb.  What shall I do?  My mother will fret, my father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it.”

“I’ll go seek it,” said Flitting Butterfly.  “I will find your golden comb, have no fear.”

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Wrinkled Brown Toad.

“Oo-o-o-o!  You ugly thing!  Out of my sight!” cried Lesa.  “I have trouble enough without you!  I have lost my comb, my golden comb!  No one can find it!  Oh, what shall I do?”

“I’ll go seek it,” croaked Wrinkled Brown Toad.  “I will find your golden comb, have no fear.”

“You find my comb!” cried Lesa.  “If Rollicking Robin and Busy Bee and Fleet-footed Field Mouse and Chirping Cricket and Gliding Brown Snake and Cunning Black Ant and Flitting Butterfly cannot help me, how can such a stupid, ugly, hobbling thing as you find my golden comb?  Be off!  Get out of my sight!”

Poor Wrinkled Brown Toad hopped away and Lesa was left alone.  “Oh, what shall I do?  What shall I do?” she cried.  “Oh, my comb, my golden comb!  Some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it!” And, throwing herself upon the ground, Lesa sobbed as if her heart would break.

For a long time this forlorn little girl lay with her face buried in the moss and leaves.  Suddenly she heard a strange noise behind her.  She sprang to her feet and, turning, saw coming toward her with great flying leaps—­whom do you suppose?  Yes, it was Wrinkled Brown Toad again.  And what do you suppose he held in his ugly jaws?  Yes, it was Lesa’s golden comb.

“Oh, there it is!  There it is!  Oh, I’m so glad, so glad!” cried Lesa.  “Oh, thank you!  Thank you!  Where did you find it?  I’m sorry I was cross!  I’m sorry I called you stupid and ugly and hobbling!  You have bright eyes.  I did not notice them before.  Yes, they are really beautiful, all golden like my comb.”

And Lesa bent and stroked Wrinkled Brown Toad on his ugly head; and, ever after that, they were friends.

BILLY BOBTAIL.

Once upon a time a little boy named Billy Bobtail went to seek his fortune; and on the road he met a bull.