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The lost comb

THE LOST COMB

One day while Lesa was picking flowers in the wood the beautiful golden
comb that she always wore fell out of her hair and was lost. She
searched and she searched, but she could not find it. At last she
began to cry, and she cried and she cried.

Just then along came Rollicking Robin.

“Oh, do help me, Rollicking Robin!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost my comb,
my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will
scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me
if I do not find it.”

“Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up! I’ll go seek it.” sang Rollicking
Robin, “I will find your golden comb, have no fear.”

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Busy Bee.

“Oh, do help me, Busy Bee!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost my comb, my
golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will
scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me
if I do not find it.”

“Buzz, buzz, buzz! I’ll go seek it,” hummed Busy Bee. “I will find
your golden comb, have no fear.”

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Fleet-footed Field Mouse.

“Oh, do help me, Fleet-footed Field Mouse!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost
my comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my
father will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely
come to me if I do not find it.”

“Eep, eep, eep! I’ll go seek it,” squeaked Fleet-footed Field Mouse.
“I will find your golden comb, have no fear.”

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Chirping Cricket.

“Oh, do help me, Chirping Cricket!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost my comb,
my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father will
scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come to me
if I do not find it.”

“Chirp, chirp, chirp! I’ll go seek it,” piped Chirping Cricket. “I
will find your golden comb, have no fear.”

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Gliding Brown Snake.

“Oh, do help me, Gliding Brown Snake!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost my
comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father
will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come
to me if I do not find it.”

“Sssssssss! I’ll go seek it,” hissed Gliding Brown Snake. “I will
find your golden comb, have no fear.”

So he looked and he looked and he looked, but no comb could he find.

Just then along came Cunning Black Ant.

“Oh, do help me, Cunning Black Ant!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost my
comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father
will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come
to me if I do not find it.”

“I’ll go seek it,” said Cunning Black Ant. “I will find your golden
comb, have no fear.”

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Flitting Butterfly.

“Oh, do help me, Flitting Butterfly!” sobbed Lesa. “I have lost my
comb, my golden comb. What shall I do? My mother will fret, my father
will scold, my little sister will cry, and some harm will surely come
to me if I do not find it.”

“I’ll go seek it,” said Flitting Butterfly. “I will find your golden
comb, have no fear.”

So she looked and she looked and she looked, but no comb could she find.

Just then along came Wrinkled Brown Toad.

“Oo-o-o-o! You ugly thing! Out of my sight!” cried Lesa. “I have
trouble enough without you! I have lost my comb, my golden comb! No
one can find it! Oh, what shall I do?”

“I’ll go seek it,” croaked Wrinkled Brown Toad. “I will find your
golden comb, have no fear.”

“You find my comb!” cried Lesa. “If Rollicking Robin and Busy Bee and
Fleet-footed Field Mouse and Chirping Cricket and Gliding Brown Snake
and Cunning Black Ant and Flitting Butterfly cannot help me, how can
such a stupid, ugly, hobbling thing as you find my golden comb? Be
off! Get out of my sight!”

Poor Wrinkled Brown Toad hopped away and Lesa was left alone. “Oh,
what shall I do? What shall I do?” she cried. “Oh, my comb, my golden
comb! Some harm will surely come to me if I do not find it!” And,
throwing herself upon the ground, Lesa sobbed as if her heart would
break.

For a long time this forlorn little girl lay with her face buried in
the moss and leaves. Suddenly she heard a strange noise behind her.
She sprang to her feet and, turning, saw coming toward her with great
flying leaps–whom do you suppose? Yes, it was Wrinkled Brown Toad
again. And what do you suppose he held in his ugly jaws? Yes, it was
Lesa’s golden comb.

“Oh, there it is! There it is! Oh, I’m so glad, so glad!” cried Lesa.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Where did you find it? I’m sorry I was
cross! I’m sorry I called you stupid and ugly and hobbling! You have
bright eyes. I did not notice them before. Yes, they are really
beautiful, all golden like my comb.”

And Lesa bent and stroked Wrinkled Brown Toad on his ugly head; and,
ever after that, they were friends.