She danced the baby "up, up, up, and down, down, downy," till its blue cloak was twisted like a shaving.

Still it cried, and its unnatural mother refused to hear.
"I never'll hold another baby as long's I live.

When ladies come to our house, I'll look and see if they've brought one, and if they have I'll always run up stairs and hide." As a last resort, she gave the little screamer some pop-corn.

Why not?
It refused to be comforted with other devices.

How should she know that it was unable to chew, and was in the habit of swallowing buttons, beads, and other small articles whole?
Baby clutched at the puffy white kernels, and crowed.