“The camel’s legs are very slim,
    And he lets people ride on him. 
    Across the sandy waste he flies,
    And kicks the waste in people’s eyes.

    “He kneels for people to get on,
    Then pulls his legs up, one by one;
    But here’s what troubles them the worst—­
    To know which leg he’ll pull up first.

    “Sometimes, when he is feeling gay,
    The camel likes to run away;
    And, as he’s just indulged that whim,
    I can’t write any more of him.”

“I think that’s lovely,” said the Queen, enthusiastically.  “Your uncle is a real poet, isn’t he?”

“Our family all can write poetry,” said Marjorie, seriously.  “Father and Mother both write beautiful verses.”

“Now, here’s the next one,” went on King.  “This is about all sorts of different animals,—­and it’s funny, too: 

    “The whale is smooth, and black as jet
      His disposition sweet;
    He neatly combs his hair, and yet
      He will not wipe his feet.

    “The wombat’s clever and polite,
      And kind as he can be;
    And yet he doesn’t bow quite right
      When he goes out to tea.

    “The snake is bright and understands
      Whatever he is taught;
    And yet he never will shake hands
      As cordial people ought.

    “’Most everybody loves the newt;
      But I’ve heard people tell,
    That though he’s handy with a flute
      He can’t sew very well.

    “So animals, as you may see,
      Some grave defects display;
    They’re not like human beings.  We
      Are perfect every way.”

“Oh, that’s a fine one!” cried Hester.  “Mayn’t I copy that, and have it to keep?”

“Of course,” said King.  “I’ll make you a copy on the typewriter.  Now, here’s a silly one.  I mean nonsensical, you know.  But I like it: 

    “THE FUNNY FLAPDOODLE

    “There was a Flapdoodle of France,
    Who loved to cut capers and dance;
    He had one red shoe
    And the other was blue,
    And how he could shuffle and prance!

    “One day he was kicking so high
    That a breeze blew him up in the sky;
    The breeze was so strong
    It blew him along
    Till the Flapdoodle just seemed to fly.

    “He flew ’way up into the stars,
    And, somehow, he landed on Mars. 
    Said the Flapdoodle:  ’I
    Do not like to fly;
    I think I’ll go back on the cars.’

    “So a railroad was rapidly built,
    And they wrapped him all up in a quilt;
    For the Flapdoodle said: 
    ’If I stick out my head
    I fear that I’ll somehow get kilt!’

    “The railroad train whizzed very fast,
    But they landed him safely at last;
    And through future years
    He related, with tears,
    The dangers through which he had passed.”