Chapter III: Loneliness

How can I play any longer with my doll?
You know she has lost her head.
And Mary’s the one that used to mend her for me--
_And Mary, you say, is dead._

Why do I leave the sand-heap all alone?
Because it has dried and spread.
And Mary’s the one that always brought the water--
_And Mary, you say, is dead._

More on the beach? Well, I think I know that, too!
And _you_ are the one that said
That Mary and I should sleep in a room together--
_And now you say Mary’s dead._

No, I don’t like the hotel--I’d be alone;
I’d cry in that great big bed:
And Mary and I played tent in the morning early--
_And now Mary can’t--she’s dead._

Happier? no, not a bit! not a single bit!
Then why are your eyes so red?
And Mary’s the one that never liked angel-stories--
_And Mary’s the one that’s dead._