GREEDY THOMAS.
BY KATHARINE PYLE.
"No, Thomas, no," his good nurse said.
"Indeed, you should not take
At tea-time such a very large
And plummy piece of cake."
In vain it was for nurse to speak,
Young Thomas paid no heed;
The slice of cake, both plum and crumb,
He ate with eager greed.
But, ah! that night, when all the house
Was wrapped in slumber deep,
Then Thomas had a dreadful dream,
For he was fast asleep.
He dreamed he was a plummy cake
Of most enormous size.
The icing was his nose and mouth,
And currants were his eyes.
He dreamed the door swung softly back,
The dream-man entered in;
And spectacles were on his nose,
And bristles on his chin.
He held a great knife in his hand,
And tiptoed to the bed.
"Oh, pray don't cut! I'm not a cake,
I'm Tommy," Thomas said.
In vain to speak, for Thomas knew
He looked too brown and nice;
He saw the dream-man lift his knife
As if to cut a slice,
And then—young Thomas shrieked and woke,
And sat up straight in bed.
"Oh, dear! I'll never eat rich cake
Again at night," he said.