What Katy Did

It was a hot day. The sky was very blue, and white clouds, like

great swans, went floating over it to and fro.

The picture was so pretty that I sat for a long time enjoying it.

Suddenly, close to me, two small voices began to talk. One voice was

shrill; the other, which was a little deeper, sounded very positive and

cross. They were evidently disputing about something, for they said the

same words over and over again. These were the words – “Katy did.”

“Katy didn't.” “She did.” “She didn't.” “She did.” “She didn't.” “Did.”

“Didn't.”

I think they must have repeated them at least a hundred times.

I got up from my seat to see if I could find the speakers; and sure

enough, I spied two tiny pale-green creatures. They had six legs apiece

– two short ones, two not so short, and two very long.

They didn't say anything so long as I was there, but the moment

my back was turned they began to quarrel again, and in the same old

words – “Katy did.” “Katy didn't.” “She did.” “She didn't.”