But that never would do, of course;
for nobody cries when old enough to know better: so after running
round to each others' houses, and talking a little, they agreed they
would all work together, and that every one should do what he could
do best. So Tom Tearcoat, instead of climbing trees, and smashing
the furniture with his hatchet, went and split kindlings in all the
wood-houses; and his sister Georgie, who never wanted to be in the
house, carried them into the kitchens; and Patty Pettitoes tried her
hand at cooking, instead of eating; and Dowsabelle Dormouse made the
beds, and beat up the sofa-pillows; and Mattie Motherly, whose chief
delight was playing at housekeeping in her baby-house, set the
tables, and put the parlors to rights. But there seemed to be
nothing that Finnikin Fine could do; for she had never thought of
any thing but dressing, in all the gay clothes she could get, and
looking into the mirror until she had worn quite a place in the
carpet before it. But, at last, someone said,--
"Oh! Finnikin may dress the little children: that will suit her
best."
So Finnikin tried to do that. But she spent so much time tying up
the little girls' sleeves with ribbons, and parting the little boys'
hair behind, that, when breakfast-time came, they were not half
ready, and began to cry,--
"O Finnikin, O!
Don't spend your time so,
But put on our dresses,
And smooth out our tresses;
We don't care for curls,
Either boys or girls,
If we are but neat,
And may sit down to eat.
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