"I was coming home from market with my brother; he's quite a big pig; and I stopped to eat some acorns, so he said he wouldn't wait for me any longer, and he went on and that lost me."
"But if you'd just looked you would have seen it."
"I couldn't look because I was hunting for acorns, and then I began to cry, and then I hunted for some more acorns."
It sounded so foolish, Ellen couldn't help laughing. "I think I'd better go home with you or you may get lost again," she said. Presently she asked, "How many brothers have you?"
"Four," answered the pig. "One of them's going to have roast beef for dinner." Suddenly he sat down and began to cry again.
"What in the world's the matter now?" asked Ellen in desperation.
"Well you'd better hurry home and see. If you keep on sitting here and crying, I know you won't get any."
This thought made the little pig jump up and start toward home as fast as his short legs would carry him.
When they reached the sod house next to the brick one another pig was standing in the doorway looking out. He was larger than Ellen's companion.
He stared hard at the little girl and her gander, but when he spoke it was to the little pig. "You naughty little pig, why didn't you come home?"
The little pig did not answer this question. "Has Middling finished his roast beef?" he asked.
As the little pig hurried in through the door, Ellen asked of the other, "Is this your house?"
Three other pigs had appeared in the doorway by this time. They all stared at the little girl.
"Would you like to look inside?" asked the largest pig.
She slipped from the gander and the pigs made way for her to go in; but she only looked through the doorway, without entering. The littlest pig was seated at a table eating beef fat as fast as he could. Ellen did not think he ate very nicely.
"It's a dear little house," she repeated.
Then she looked about her. At the window of one of the other houses she caught a glimpse of a head. It looked like a cat's head.
"Who live in all these other houses?" she asked.
"Well, in that brick house lives another pig," answered the pig they called Middling. "Sometimes he comes to see us, but he doesn't have _very_ much to do with us, because he's in a story; a _real_ story you know, and we're only in a rhyme."