There's been twelve in our cottage as had th' stomach an' nothin' to put in it.

You go on playin' you out o' doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an' you won't be so yeller." "I don't play," said Mary.

"I have nothing to play with." "Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha.

"Our children plays with sticks and stones.

They just runs about an' shouts an' looks at things." Mary did not shout, but she looked at things.