"Here's a pie I found cooling on the bench under the pantry window!" said Tom Sommers. "I'm going to eat it all myself!"

"That is the cook's pie. I saw her making it," said wee George.

"Won't 'ou div me some pie?" asked little Ella.

"No, I won't give you one single bit. This pie is full of plums and juice, I know. Ah! but it will have a good taste! No, Nancy, Susanna, Mariah Anniah you shall not have even a taste of this sweet pie!"

"My name is'nt 'Ria Sannia' 'Ou're a bad boy. 'Ou call me names. 'Ou won't div me any pie! 'Ou eat it all alone!"

"Well, now, this is too bad. Not a knife in any of my pockets! Happen to have a jack-knife with you, Georgie?"

"No, I haven't any knife."

"What, a big boy like you and no jack-knife?"

"I'd like one, but folks say I'm too little to have one yet. But I'm going to save all my candy money now and buy one for myself."

"Very well, no knife, no pie! It's getting late and I must be going along. It'll take me some time to get there for I must walk slowly so as not to spill a drop of this juicy pie. Good bye."

Saying this, Tom walked away with the pie.

Just then a loud and angry voice was heard shouting, "Where's that pie?" The stout cook came rushing upon the scene, shaking her dish cloth and rolling pin in the air. "Who's got that pie?" she screamed as she ran around and around and back again to the same bench where she had placed the pie to cool. What was her surprise, then, to see the very same pie just where she had left it!

"Oh it's that bad boy, Tom Sommers, who has been playing this trick on me!" she shouted, in a loud voice. "Just let me catch him!"