Thought she, "What a beautiful toss-ball!
If I could but give it a snap,
Now all are out, nor thinking about
Their rose, or the least mishap!"
She twisted the stem, and she twirled it;
And seizing the flower it bore,
With the timely aid of her teeth, she made
A leap to the parlor-floor.
Then over the carpet she tossed it,
All fresh in its morning bloom,
Till, shattered and rent, its leaves were sent
To every side of the room.
At length, with her sport grown weary,
She laid herself down to sun,
Inclining to doze, forgetting the rose,
And the mischief she'd slily done.
By and by her young mistress entered,
And uttered a piteous cry,
When she saw the fate of what had so late
Delighted her watchful eye.
But, where was the one who had spoiled it
Concealing his guilty face?
She had not a clue, whereby to pursue
The rogue to his lurking-place!
Thought Kit, "I'll keep still till it's over;
And none will suspect it was I."
For the puss awoke, when her mistress spoke;
And she well understood the cry.
But, mewing at length for her dinner,
Kit's mouth confessed the whole truth:
It opened so wide that her mistress espied
A rose-leaf pierced by her tooth!
Then, banished was Kit from the parlor,
All covered with shame! And those
Inclined, like her, in secret to err,
Should remember Kit with the Rose.
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