A MYSTERY
I put my coat and furs and mittens on, to go
With my cunning Christmas sled, out to see the pretty snow.
I made some little balls, and they looked as white and nice—
I tried how one would taste, but it was just as cold as ice.
I took some to the kitchen then, because I thought, you see,
I’d bake them just like apples—they’d be good with cream and tea.
I didn’t say a single word about it to the cook,
When I put them in the oven, but when she gave a look,
She stared, and held her hands up, and said: “For pity’s sake!