Katy opened the second slip.

WORD.—­Anything. 
QUESTION.—­Would you rather be a greater fool than you seem, or seem
a greater fool than you are?

I wouldn’t seem a fool for anything, my dear,
If I could help it; but I can’t, I fear.

“Not bad,” said Rose, nodding her head at Sally Alsop, who blushed crimson.

The third paper ran,—­

WORD.—­Mahershahalhashbaz. 
QUESTION.—­Does your mother know you’re out?

Rose and Clover exchanged looks.

Why, of course my mother knows it,
For she sent me out herself. 
She told me to run quickly, for
It wasn’t but a mile;
But I found it was much farther,
And my feet grew tired and weary,
And I couldn’t hurry greatly,
So I took a long, long while. 
Beside, I stopped to read your word,
A stranger one I never heard! 
I’ve met with Pa-pistical,
That’s pat;
But Ma-hershahalhashbaz,
What’s that?

“Oh, Clovy, you bright little thing!” cried Rose, in fits of laughter.  But Mary Silver looked quite pale.

“I never heard of any thing so awful!” she said.  “If that word had come to me, I should have fainted away on the spot,—­I know I should!”

Next came—­

  WORD.—­Buttons. 
  QUESTION.—­What is the best way to make home happy?

          To me ’tis quite clear I can answer this right: 
          Sew on the buttons, and sew them on tight.

“I suspect that is Amy’s,” said Esther:  “she’s such a model for mending and keeping things in order.”

“It’s not fair, guessing aloud in this way,” said Sally Alsop.  Sally always spoke for Amy, and Amy for Sally.  “Voice and Echo” Rose called them:  only, as she remarked, nobody could tell which was Echo and which Voice.

The next word was “Mrs. Nipson,” and the question, “Do you like flowers?”

    Do I like flowers?  I will not write a sonnet,
      Singing their beauty as a poet might do: 
    I just detest those on Aunt Nipson’s bonnet,
      Because they are like her,—­all gray and blue,
      Dusty and pinched, and fastened on askew! 
    And as for heaven’s own buttercups and daisies,
    I am not good enough to sing their praises.

Nobody knew who wrote this verse.  Katy suspected Louisa, and Rose suspected Katy.

The sixth slip was a very brief one.

  WORD.—­When? 
  QUESTION.—­Are you willing?

     If I wasn’t willing, I would tell you;
     But when—­ Oh, dear, I can’t!

“What an extraordinary rhyme!” began Clover, but Rose spied poor Mary blushing and looking distressed, and hastily interposed,—­

“It’s very good, I’m sure.  I wish I’d written it.  Go on, Katy.”

So Katy went on.

  WORD.—­Unfeeling. 
  QUESTION.—­Which would you rather do, or go fishing?

     I don’t feel up to fishing or such;
     And so, if you please, I’d rather do—­which?