The air was hot, the ground was dry,
Grizel lay back in the grass with a sigh.
"What a perfect day,
So blue and gay,"
She sang as in the meadow she lay.
"Grizel - get up! Get off your back!
You really are so awfully slack!"
'Twas Juliet spoke,
It wasn't a joke.
She pulled Grizel up and gave her a poke.
"Be quick" she cried. "Let's find the rest,
I have some news and it isn't the best:
We were tripping along,
Lilting a song,
When we realised something was terribly wrong.
"We were trilling and skipping our way past the Chalet
('Cos Margia thinks of composing a ballet),
When we saw up ahead
A - well, just - a head,
It's just round the corner - she's quite dead, we fear!"
"Grizel!" did Evvy and Margia cry,
"Please tell us how Miss Wilson died!"
"Yes, tell us indeed,"
Joey did plead,
"'Cos we haven't a clue and we're terribly grieved."
Grizel pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes,
Said "by all the clues, and by all the signs,
By the excess of woe,
And the lack of a foe,
And the things that I know,
My verdict would go,
That Miss Wilson fell out of the window."