So Wry-Face carried the potato into his house, and stored it in his bin. But he never noticed the spell which Oh-I-Am had placed by his door.
“I am so tired, I can scarcely yawn,” said Wry-Face. “It is quite time for me to have my supper and go to bed.”
So he fetched the apple pie from the pantry and set it upon the table, and presently he sat down to his meal.
And he forgot for a moment how tired he was, thinking how delightful it was to sit down to a supper of apple pie.
Then he lifted his knife and fork to cut off a large piece, but alas, the fork stuck fast. As for the knife, it would not move either, not an inch. Wry-Face began to weep.
“Alack, what has happened to my apple pie?” cried he, and his tears fell, round as round.
Then he got upon his feet, and he caught hold of the knife and fork and pulled and pulled and pulled. And with the last pull the top of the apple pie came off, sticking to the knife and fork, and Wry-Face saw that within the pie there was not one piece of apple, but—a big brown potato!
Wry-Face wept again with horror at the sight.
“I should like to know,” cried he, “what you are doing in my fine apple pie?”
The brown potato replied, as cool as cool, “I am one of the potatoes belonging to One-Eye, the potato wife, and I turned the apples out, that I might hide here awhile. But this I must tell you, Wry-Face, unless you take me home to the potato wife immediately, here, in this pie dish, I intend to remain.”