"Come Jane," said grandmamma one day, "'Tis time you learned to sew; At your age I could make a frock, And you should also know."

But Jane cared little for such things; She liked to make a noise; She used to run about all day, And shout, and play with boys.

So now she only tossed her head And ran with eager feet, And soon was racing up and down, And playing in the street.

Once Jane was to a party asked; Her friends would all be there; She wore her best sprigged muslin frock, And ribbons tied her hair.

When she was shown upstairs to lay Her hat upon the bed, She saw a little basket there, With needles, wax and thread.

"I wonder," said untidy Jane, "If Mattie likes to sew; I'm glad that I have never learned; I should not care to know."

With that she laughed and ran downstairs, But on the way—ah see! She's caught her skirt upon a nail And torn it terribly.

If Jane had learned from grandmamma She might have mended it, But she had been a thoughtless child And could not sew a bit.

So with her frock all torn, into The room she had to go, And all the children wondering stared To see her looking so;

Then when Jane played it caught her feet And almost made her fall; That shamed her so she ran