BEDTIME TALES

New Zealand Times, Volume LII, Issue 12295, 14 November 1925, Page 16

BEDTIME TALES

MARY VIRGINIA SETS THE TABLE Mary Virginia pouted her lips, and said, “I don’t want to set the table for dinner.” She was a little girl of seven years old, with blue eyes and curly hair, but she did not look at all pretty with a pout on her lips. Her mother saw the pout, and was very sorry, so she tried to think or a way to make her little girl happy again. She looked out of the window while she stuffed some bright red tomatoes and saw the little new house that was being built near by. Then she said: “Let’s play that we are real estate agents!” "How?” exclaimed Mary Virginia, letting the pout out of her lips. “Well,” said mother, going into the dining-room apd beginning to spread a cloth on the table, “here is a nice'piece of ground that should have six little houses on it ; then six people could buy them from us.” “Oh,” laughed Mary Virginia, “you mean the plates 9 an be the houses. I'll run and get the blue ones out of the cupboard.” In one shake of a sheep’s tail, which is a funny way of saying “in a very short time.” she had built six little blue houses. “Now,” said mother, “you must set out some shrubbery and trees. Get the little salt and pepper shakers and the glasses while I set out some flowers in the middle of this little court.” ! “This is fun,” answered Mary Virginia. “I shall have the salt shakers for rose bushes, and the pepper shakers for zinnias, and the glasses for trees.” “What kind of trees?” asked mother. “Christmas trees,” responded Mary Virginia. Mother laughed, and then said: “These are going to be the finest houses in town, because we shpll engage all the servants before we sell them. Get the silver, and we will see what each house needs.” “Oh,” said Mary Virginia, “a knife for a chauffeur, and a fork for a cook.” ' “That’s fine, but we are going to have soup,” reminded mother. ■ ‘Then a soup spoon ca,n be'the washerwoman, and if we have salad the.salad fork can be—can be—oh, dear,” cried Mary, Virginia, “wbat can the salad fork be?’’ “She can be the maid,” said mother, “and the two little spoons can be the cook’s twins.” “Oh, no,” Mary Virginia disagreed. “Lets have the little spoons for the dog and cat.” “Very well,” said mother. “What do you charge for the little blue house at the foot of the table? I should like to buy that one.” “A doughnut!” said Mary Virginia, jumping up and down. “I will pay that much,” said mother, “but you must make a little sign and say ‘Sold to mother.’ ” “I’ll buy the one next to you,” shouted Mary Virginia, running to get a pencil and cardboard. “I shall sell one to Daddy for a penny, but Uncle Jack will have to pay me two pennies.” “A good real estate agent is always fair,” reminded mother. “Suppose we charge a funny rhyme to each of them. That will be great fun.” “Oh, yes,” cried Mary Virginia—“and here they come!”