Mary Ann proclaims it, and she means it. First she makes mud--""about a houseful of mud, if mud could be measured in a house""--and then: what shall I do with it? She makes a mud hill (""it grew into a mud mountain""); she makes a little square world in a suitbox with mud houses and schools and stores; she populates it with little mud men and little mud ladies and little mud children (""Mary Ann especially liked to make them""). But she still has plenty of mud left, and no takers. Then her mother appears: ""Mary Ann! Look!"" Mary Ann looks. ""I need a bath,"" she says. The artist's soft, fuzzy style and delicate shades minimize the mess, make Mary Ann and her offspring more inviting than some mothers might wish (but they can always run a bath afterward). Very little very likably done, especially the grinning, gaping globs called children.