“That’s er mighty funny story,” said Diddie; “but I’ll let it stay in the book—­only you ain’t finished it, Dumps, Hyear’s fo’ mo’ lines of paper ain’t written yet.”

“That’s all I know,” replied Dumps.  And Diddie, after considering awhile, said she thought it would be very nice to wind it up with a piece of poetry.  Dumps was delighted at that suggestion, and the little girls puzzled their brains for rhymes.  After thinking for some time, Diddie wrote,

“Once ’twas a little girl, and she was so bad,”

and read it aloud; then said, “Now, Dumps, sposin’ you make up the nex’ line.”

Dumps buried her face in her hands, and remained in deep study for a few moments, and presently said,

“And now she is dead, an’ I am so glad.”

“Oh, Dumps, that’s too wicked,” said Diddie.  “You mustn’t never be glad when anybody’s dead; that’s too wicked a poetry; I sha’n’t write it in the book.”

“Well, I nuver knowed nuthin’ else,” said Dumps.  “I couldn’t hardly make that up; I jes had ter study all my might; and I’m tired of writin poetry, anyhow; you make it up all by yoursef.”

Diddie, with her brows drawn together in a frown, and her eyes tight shut, chewed the end of her pencil, and, after a few moments, said,

“Dumps, do you min’ ef the cow was to run his horns through her forrid stid of her neck?”

“No, hit don’t make no diffrence to me,” replied Dumps.

“Well, then,” said Diddie, “ef ’twas her forrid, I kin fix it.”

So, after a little more study and thought, Diddie wound up the story thus: 

“Once ’twas er little girl, so wicked and horrid,
Till the cow run his horns right slap through her forrid,
And throwed her to hebn all full of her sin,
And, the gate bein open, he pitched her right in.”

And that was “The END of the Bad Little Girl.”

“Now there’s jes one mo’ tale,” said Diddie, “and that’s about ’Annie’s Visit,’ an’ I’m tired of makin’ up books; Chris, can’t you make up that?”

“I dunno hit,” said Chris, “but I kin tell yer ’bout’n de tar baby, ef dat’ll do.”

“Don’t you think that’ll do jes as well, Dumps?” asked Diddie.

“Certingly!” replied Dumps.  So Diddie drew her pencil through “Annie’s Visit,” and wrote in its place,

“The Tar Baby,”

and Chris began: 

“Once pun a time, ‘twuz er ole Rabbit an’ er ole Fox and er ole Coon:  an’ dey all lived close togedder; an’ de ole Fox he had him er mighty fine goober-patch, w’at he nuber ‘low nobody ter tech; an’ one mornin’ atter he git up, an’ wuz er walkin’ ’bout in his gyarden, he seed tracks, an’ he foller de tracks, an’ he see whar sumbody ben er grabbin’ uv his goobers.  An’ ev’y day he see de same thing; an’ he watch, an’ he watch, an’ he couldn’t nuber cotch nobody! an’ he went, he did, ter de Coon, and he sez, sezee, ‘Brer Coon, dar’s sumbody stealin’ uv my goobers.’