She was glad and thankful that Johnny had refrained from writing any such doggerel about _her_.

That would have been perfectly intolerable.

That he should write poetry at all was intolerable.

The more she thought of it, the more intolerable it became.
Just for punishment, and as a subtle way of letting him know what she thought of him and his idiotic jingle, she picked up the tablet, found the pencil Johnny had used, and did a little poetizing herself.

She could have rhymed it much better, of course, if she had condescended to give any thought whatever to the matter, which she did not.