"Balls and balloons and puff puffs and kitties."
"The puppet show is very beautiful!"
"Very beautiful!"
"And grandfathers fly kites and puff fire flowers!"
"Fly kites and puff fire flowers!"
"And grandmothers have cakes and sweeties."
"Cakes and sweeties!"
"But where are father and mother?"
Little Waking Eyes and Little Sleeping Eyes again searched each other's faces; but neither could answer the other's question. Their little mouths drooped pathetically; they propped their chubby little faces in their hands and heaved queer little sighs.
There were father and mother one time—always, always; father and mother and Sung Sung. Then there was the big ship and Sung Sung only, and the big water. After the big water, grandfathers and grandmothers; and Little Waking Eyes had gone to live with one grandfather and grandmother, and Little Sleeping Eyes had gone to live with another grandfather and grandmother. And the old Sung Sung had gone away and two new Sung Sungs had come. And Little Waking Eyes and Little Sleeping Eyes had been good
