Do you, O Queen ?" Ruth looked doubtful for a minute, for she was a little afraid of Hester's uncertain temper; but, seeing Marjorie's pleading look, she consented.
"All right," she said; "if Hester won't throw water on me." "No, I won't!" declared Hester, earnestly.
"Well," said King, "just as long as Hester behaves herself she may stay.
If she carries on like fury, she's got to go home." Hester sat down and folded her hands in her lap, looking so excessively meek that they all had to laugh at her.
"Now," said the Queen, "we're gathered here together, my loyal subjects, to listen to,--to, what do you call it ?" "_The Jolly Sandboy_," prompted King.
"_The Jolly Sandbag_," said the Queen, misunderstanding.
But she was soon put right, and King proceeded to read his paper.
"It's 'most all done by Uncle Steve and Kitty," he said, "and it's so nice, I thought you'd all like to hear it." "We would," they said, and so King began.
"Uncle Steve's part is all about animals," he said.

"It's a sort of Natural History, I guess.

First is a poem about the Camel.
"The camel is a curious beast; He roams about all through the East.
He swiftly scours the desert plain, And then he scours it back again.
"The camel's legs are very slim, And he lets people ride on him.
Across the sandy waste he flies, And kicks the waste in people's eyes.
"He kneels for people to get on, Then pulls his legs up, one by one; But here's what troubles them the worst-- To know which leg he'll pull up first.
"Sometimes, when he is feeling gay, The camel likes to run away; And, as he's just indulged that whim, I can't write any more of him." "I think that's lovely," said the Queen, enthusiastically.

"Your uncle is a real poet, isn't he ?" "Our family all can write poetry," said Marjorie, seriously.

"Father and Mother both write beautiful verses." "Now, here's the next one," went on King.