XVIII

Then mother cooked each golden slice, And seasoned it with sweet and spice, And rolled the crust so crisp and thin To bake the precious pumpkin in. The children pressed the table nigh, Until the oven claimed the pie, And then with appetites most keen They scraped the pan and licked it clean. Old Towser, who was always there, Looked up and seemed to want a share. When their share ended his began, For after them he licked the pan.