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She sang successfully through three or four verses, only at every verse her head nodded a little lower and her little twinkly eyes closed up—
"Those three little piggies grew peaky and lean, and lean they might very well be;
"For somehow they couldn't say umph, umph, umph! and they wouldn't say wee, wee, wee!
"For somehow they couldn't say—"
Pig-wig's head bobbed lower and lower, until she rolled over, a little round ball, fast asleep on the hearth-rug.
Pigling Bland, on tip-toe, covered her up with an antimacassar.
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