ONE day as little Puss, Junior, was traveling through New Mother Goose country, he came to a funny little house all covered with rose vines, even up to the top of the small red chimney they grew in crimson splendor. And as Puss stopped to look at the pretty sight, a tiny blue bird in a cage on the front porch began to sing:
’Jack Sprat had a pig,
Who was not very big;
He was not very lean
He was not very fat;
‚He’ll do for a grunt, ‚
Says little Jack Sprat.’
‚Oh, ho, ‚ thought Puss, and he turned into the yard and walked around to the little red barn. There stood Jack Sprat himself, leaning against the sty, watching his pig eat his dinner.
Well, just then, all of a sudden, a swarm of golden bees came humming into the little farmyard, and before long they had made a home in the empty beehive that stood close by.
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