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AMELIA.
I can't, mamma, the little minx
May play with whom she can;
And while she lives she shall not have
My waxen doll again.
"With any other little girl
I should be glad to play;
But I don't love our Frances, Ma,
I wish she'd go away.
MOTHER.
Amelia, little Betsy Smith
Spends all her time alone;
She had a little sister once,
But now she's dead and gone.
Betsy, like you, was very cross,
And when she used to play
"With pretty little Emeline,
She'd quarrel every day.
One time her sister said to her,
"Don't, Betsy, be so cross;
Indeed, I am not well to-day,
And fear I shall be worse."
