WHAT I WANT.

I WANT—I don’t know what I want; I’m tired of everything; I’d like to be a queen or something—no, a bearded king, With iron crown and wolfish eyes, and manners fierce and bold, Or else a plumed highwayman or a paladin of old. We girls are such poor creatures, slaves of circumstance and fate, Denied the warrior’s glory and the conqueror’s splendid state; And, puss, you are so mortal slow; I wish you could be changed Into a catamount, with tastes quite violent and deranged. I’d like an earthquake, that I would—O puss, I tell you what, Some planets have two suns and different colors, too, at that; Now there would be variety; two mornings every day— One green or brown, for instance, and the other crimson, say. What splendid lights, what curious shades, what transformation scenes! What queer surprises, puss, just think, what lovely pinks and greens! How funny Gus would look! He is so poky and so flat! But such complexions! After all, I shouldn’t fancy that. I’ll never marry Gus, of that I’m very sure, at least; I’d sooner be a bandit’s bride, united by a priest. Oh, there you are, sir! No, indeed! I’ll not be kissed at all! No, sir. I’ve changed my mind; we won’t be married in the fall. Now do be still! I’ve changed my mind. My privilege, I believe— Oh, horrible! What’s this? A daddy-long-legs on my sleeve! Oh, Gus, come quick! I’m deadly faint! Do take the thing away! Yes, yes, I’ll promise anything! I’ll marry you to-day!