Mother Goose Village

I F ever you go to London Town, be sure to knock at the door of jolly Old King Cole and ask the way to Mother Goose Village.

He will tell you to follow the big road, to cross London bridge, follow a winding path, go over the old stile—where the Crooked Man found the sixpence, to cross the field and climb Primrose Hill, and then you will see Mother Goose Village before you.

I found the way without any trouble, and it was the clearest, quaintest little village in all the world! Lovely flowers and soft, green grass, with birds and bees and butterflies scattered everywhere! And then, there was the beautiful sea with its dancing waves; and the blue, blue sky with no signs of cobwebs anywhere!

No wonder the queer little people I met loved to live there. Mother Goose herself carried me over the village, and I shook hands with many of the peopie. I saw Little Boy Blue and Bo-Peep watching their sheep. I saw the Miller of Dee and his little daughter Peg. I saw the Three Wise Men of Gotham on the seashore just ready to take a sail in their wonderful bowl. I saw John Smith the blacksmith and Robert Rowly the baker, and—well, I saw them all.

For, after Mother Goose had shown me all the little red houses tucked around Primrose Hill, she took me to the schoolhouse, and I enjoyed that most of all. We got there just in time to hear the Schoolmaster call the roll. Everybody in the village answered to the roll call, even Mother Goose herself. That was the only way she could keep up with her people. She kissed her hand to them as we entered the doorway, and then the Schoolmaster opened his big book. Never before had I seen so many queer little people, old and young, high and low, answer to a roll call. I could not help but smile at the funny names I heard, as you will, when you read them. Listen:

That is all I can remember now. I was sorry when the time came to say good-by, and I wanted to live in Mother Goose Village all the time. But of course I couldn't.

Mother Goose called for Johnny Armstrong to carry me home in his little wheel-barrow; the very same one in which he had brought his wife home, so he told me. I felt a wee bit afraid that it might break down and give me a fall, but it didn't.

Why, I had the gayest ride; over hills and fields and bridges, along narrow paths and winding roads we sped, until we came to London Town. It was a very fine ride.