Page 30 - The Adventures of Puss in Boots, Jr.

"Down in the village, all the day long, Mother's been singing a sweet little song; Just to herself she's been
singing all day, While baby's been rocking and rocking away: 'Hush-a-by, baby, upon the tree-top, Mother is
watching the tick-tocky clock; Counting the minutes go by until she Will be taking her baby boy down from
the tree.'"

Then she laid the baby over her shoulder and, picking up the cradle, started off for home.

"Let me carry the cradle for you," said Puss, Jr., running out of the mill.

"That would be a great help," she replied, "for baby is getting very heavy, and mother has been working hard
all day."

So Puss put the cradle on his shoulder and, bowing to the miller, followed after her, while the baby kicked and
crowed and tried to reach down and pull his whiskers. And Puss tickled the baby's hand and winked at the
baby, who gurgled and laughed and tried to pull the feather out of Puss, Jr.'s, cap. And the little mother forgot
all about her own weariness, for baby lay so warm against her neck and his laugh tinkled so sweetly in her
ear!

THE MILKMAN'S HORSE, OLD NAGGETTY NOGG

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! Over the hills, and over the bog.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! Many a mile this day I've trod.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog! I'm the milkman's horse, old Naggetty Nogg."

"Are you really?" exclaimed Puss, Jr., looking up into the face of the old white horse. "And is your name
'Naggetty Nogg'?"

"Yes, that's my name," replied the old horse. "You see, every horse is a nag. So in some way or another they
got to calling me 'Naggetty,' and then, after a while, they added on the 'Nogg.'"

"Yes, every one has at least two names," replied Puss, "and it is natural that you should have two, just like
everybody. I like the name 'Naggetty Nogg' very much. It's quite fine."

"It sounds 'horsy' all right," he answered, giving his tail a sweep to brush off some flies that had settled on his
side. "It sounds real horsy."

"And it fits you perfectly," said Puss. "You couldn't have chosen a better name."

"But I didn't choose it," replied the old horse, quickly; "it was given to me. You see, my master and I start out
early every morning. First we go to the farm to get the milk. It's so early in the morning that it's quite dark
sometimes--that is, in the winter-time. The farmer comes out and opens the milk-house door with his key. The
milk is all kept in great big pans in long rows. It's very cool inside, for the milk-house is built over a spring
that bubbles away all the time, running out of the old stone milk-house down to the meadows, where the cows
drink it and the little fish swim in it. I know, because one time when my right forefoot was hurt they put me
out in the meadow and many a good drink I've had from that same little brook. The bottom is all bright little
stones, and the ferns hang over the edge of the bank, and the little birds hop down and drink. Oh, it's very
pleasant out there in the meadow. I sometimes wish my old foot would go lame again so that I might enjoy the
green grass and the cool breezes. But that wouldn't do at all. My master would lose money. He would have to
hire another horse. And then, too, I would miss the mothers who come out to get the nice fresh milk from my
master. Sometimes they have a baby in their arms and two or three small children hanging on to their skirts.