"I don't think that's funny, though," said the voice in the tree. "Indeed, I think it's sad, because it seems to me that a very pretty color could be made out of huckle. Why do you suppose there isn't any such color?" The lily and the rose and holly-hock bushes were silent for a moment, and then they said they didn't know. "I'm glad you don't," said the tree voice. "I'm glad to find that there are some things you don't know. Just think how dreadful it would be if you knew everything. Why, if you knew everything, nobody could tell you anything, and then there'd never be any news in the world, and when you heard a joke you couldn't ever laugh because you'd have known it before." Here Jimmieboy, impressed by the real good sense of this remark, leaned out of the hammock and peered up into the tree to see if possible who or what it was that was speaking. "Don't," cried the voice. "Don't try to see me, Jimmieboy, I haven't got my company clothes on, and you make me nervous." "But I want to see who you are," said Jimmieboy. "Well you needn't want that any more," said the voice. "I'll tell you why. Nobody knows what I am. I don't even know myself." "But what do you look like?" asked Jimmieboy. "I don't know that, either. I never saw myself," replied the voice. "I'm something, of course, but just what I don't know. It may be that I am a horse and wagon, only I don't think I am, because horses, and wagons don't get up in trees. I saw a horse sitting on a whiffletree once, but that was down on the ground and not up here, so, of course, you see the chances are that I'm not that." "What do you think you are?" asked Jimmieboy. "I haven't thought much about it. But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll tell you what, perhaps, I am, and maybe that will help you to find out, and if you do find out I beg that you will tell me, because I've some curiosity on the subject myself." "Go ahead," said Jimmieboy. "You give me the perhapses and I'll try to guess." "Well," began the voice, slowly, as if, whatever it was, the thing was trying to think. Let me see. "Perhaps I am a house and lot, Perhaps I am a pussy cat, Perhaps I am a schooner yacht, Or possibly an inky spot, Perhaps a beaver hat." "I've never seen any of those up a tree," said Jimmieboy. "I guess you aren't any of those." "Very likely not," said the voice, "but I can try a few more. "Perhaps I am a picture book, It maybe I'm a candy box, Perhaps I am a trolling-hook, A tennis bat, or fancy cook, Perhaps a pair of socks. "Perchance I am a pair of shears, Perhaps a piece of kindling-wood, Perhaps I am a herd of deers, Perhaps two crystal chandeliers, Or some old lady's hood. "No man can say I'm not a pad On which a poet scribbles verse, It may be I'm a nice fresh shad, Or something else not quite as bad, Or maybe something worse."