Jane found the children in the van

Were infinitely worse than Ann;

They punched her head and tore her hair,

And pinched and nipped her everywhere,

And when she said, “A little child

Ought to be tractable and mild!”

They only made an ugly face,

And pinched her in another place.

After a time this seemed to teach

Jane it was better not to preach:

And even now and then, she would

Forget that she was very good.

She wished it had not been her plan

Always to tell Mama of Ann.

After two months had passed away,

She even might be heard to say

That she had been a spiteful cat

To treat her Cousin Ann like that!

Now Jane’s good parents went to stay

With Ann’s Papa one autumn day;

And while they both were staying there,

The people held a kind of fair.

“Pray, brother,” Jane’s Mama began,

“Do let me take your little Ann;

For she would like to see the show.”

And he replied, “We all might go.”

And so that afternoon they went,

And gravely passed from tent to tent;

And finally, the party stept

Into the tent where freaks where kept.

“Look at that child,” said one, “I’m sure

Her spots are paint and nothing more.”

Cried Ann: “I do not care a fig

For looking at that spotted pig!”

But at her voice, Jane shrieked and ran,

And threw her arms round little Ann.

“Save me! oh, save me!” she did plead;

“I’m not a spotted pig, indeed!”

While her Mama screamed out, “You’re not

My Jane!”—and fainted on the spot.

And her Papa desired to know

Who was the master of the show?

But he, as afterwards transpired,

Had very modestly retired.

Then everyone had much ado

To bring Jane’s fainting mother to:

At last she sat up with a start,

And pressed her darling to her heart.

“My Jane!” she cried, “my Jane!! my Jane!!!”

And seemed inclined to faint again.