THEY were all very sad, and the girl in the pink frock was crying bitterly, for they had been to the woods, and on the way home the wooden horse had fallen over on one side and broken off his head.
" Don't cry so, pray don't cry so," the little one said, as she knelt down in front of her sister, and tried to kiss her.
"And oh, sister," said the brother, "it would have been far worse if he had lost his tail too. Besides, perhaps he does not mind much; it is not as if he were alive."
"Ah, yes," sobbed the tall girl. “But when you are as old as I am you will know that it is a terrible thing to lose your head, even if it is only wooden."
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The Broken Horse
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