"There!" he said, when at last he got it open, "there's my present. It came from ever so far away, and a fine piece of work I had to keep it from being smashed on the road. It's all safe however, I believe, except the edges, which are a little chipped. But that's nothing. Get your knives and forks, young ones, and fall to."
This present was a pie,—a fine yellow pie, mottled with brown spots and baked in a red earthenware dish. Max and Thekla had never seen any thing like it before. It felt still warm from the oven; and smelt so delicious and spicy, that it was impossible to keep from eating it at once, as November urged them to do. So Max ran for two horn spoons; and, after a piece was laid aside for Grandfather, he and Thekla began to devour the rest.
"Oh my!" said Max, as he took his first bite, "isn't it good?"
"Won't you have a bit, sir?" asked Thekla, who was a polite little creature.
"Bless you!—no," replied November, who
