  W HEN people through the county planned To give their public dinners grand, The Brownies met at day's decline To have a birthday banquet fine. "The proper things," a speaker cried, "Await us here on every side; We simply have to reach and take And choose a place to boil and bake. With meal and flour at our feet, And wells of water pure and sweet, That Brownie must be dull indeed Who lacks the gumption to proceed. We'll peel the pumpkins, ripened well, And scoop them hollow, like a shell, Then slice them up the proper size To make at length those famous pies, For which the people, small and great, Are ever quick to reach a plate." This pleased them all; so none were slow In finding work at which to go. A stove that chance threw in their way Was put in shape without delay. Though doors were cracked, and legs were rare, The spacious oven still was there, Where pies and cakes and puddings wide Might bake together side by side. The level top, though incomplete, Gave pots and pans a welcome seat, Where stews could steam and dumplings found A fitting place to roll around. Some lengths of pipe were raised on high That made the soot and cinders fly, And caused a draught throughout the wreck That door or damper failed to check. The rogues who undertook the part, That tries the cook's delightful art, Had smarting hands and faces red Before the table-cloth was spread; But what cared they at such an hour For singeing flame or scalding shower? Such ills are always reckoned slight When great successes are in sight. There cakes and tarts and cookies fine, Of both the "leaf" and "notched" design, Were ranged in rows around the pan That into heated ovens ran; Where, in what seemed a minute's space, Another batch would take their place; While birds, that had secured repose Above the reach of Reynard's nose, Without the aid of wings came down To be at midnight roasted brown. They found some boards and benches laid Aside by workmen at their trade, And these upon the green were placed By willing hands with proper haste. Said one, who board and bench combined: "All art is not to cooks confined, And some expertness we can show As well as those who mix the dough." And all was as the speaker said; In fact, they were some points ahead; For when the cooks their triumphs showed, The table waited for its load. The knives and forks and dishes white By secret methods came to light. Much space would be required to tell Just how the table looked so well; But kitchen cupboards, three or four, Must there have yielded up their store; For all the guests on every side With full equipments were supplied. When people find a carver hacked, A saucer chipped, or platter cracked, They should be somewhat slow to claim That servants are the ones to blame; For Brownies may have used the ware And failed to show the proper care. A few, as waiters, passed about New dishes when the old gave out, And saw the plates, as soon as bare, Were heaped again with something rare. No member, as you may believe, Was anxious such a place to leave, Until he had a taste at least Of all the dishes in the feast. The Brownies, when they break their fast, Will eat as long as viands last, And even birds can not depend On crumbs or pickings at the end: The plates were scraped, the kettles clean, And not a morsel to be seen, Ere Brownies from that table ran To shun the prying eyes of man. |
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