Gother Moose—(entering) Well, well, whom have we here?
Derf—Erf chilluns.
Gother Moose—Earth children! I’m afraid they belong under the jurisdiction of my sin twister, who tells her stories in a queer, jerky sort of fashion. Call in the others, and I’ll be about my task, for I must journey on to make the Christmas holidays begin in the other places. I’m late, as it is. (Dad, Mom, and Marg run in, and seat themselves, all using the furniture as it is. Gother Moose remains standing.)
Gother Moose—What shall I tell you this time?
Derf—Hackey Jorner.
Gother Moose—Hackey Jorner was a very little boy, no bigger than Derf. One time he sat down in the middle of the room, where the sides came together, and put his foot into the oven, which was very cold. He pulled out a very small pie, all piping hot, and held it neatly on his knuckles. Then with his fingers on the other hand, he began to eat it. He took a bite, then he took another, then he took another, then he took another, then he took another, then he took another, then he took another, then he took another, then—
Frank—Oh, go on! Never mind so many bites.
Gother Moose—But he has only had eight bites. That would be too large a pie, and this was a small one. So he took another bite, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then he took another, and then—what do you think?
Frank—Oh, he took another, probably.
Alice—No, he found a plum.