This basket was flanked on either side by a little pig roasted whole with a red apple in its mouth, while at both ends of the table rested the big twenty-pound turkeys browned to a turn. Here and there were vegetable dishes heaped high with fluffy mashed potatoes sprinkled with paprika. There were also candied sweet potatoes half hidden in their candy dip, while sparkling glass dishes held molds of cranberries, preserved cherries, pickled peaches, candied watermelon rind and many kinds of salted nuts. All these things were on the tables at once, including a delectable fruit salad. After the table was cleared of these viands, the dessert was carried in, and I know all the guests wondered how they could eat it. It consisted of mince pie, apple pie, cranberry pie and pumpkin pie served with cheese, followed by ice-cream with chocolate sauce poured over it, angel cake, chocolate layer cake and nut cake, while sweet cider made right on the farm sparkled in the glasses and the aroma of the best of coffee arose from the cups.
“I shall not be able to eat for a week after this dinner, Mrs. Watson,” said one of her guests on leaving the table.
“Oh, yes, you will,” replied the hostess. “Mr. Watson always says the same thing but by seven-thirty he is ready to eat again and he says, ‘Did I hear you say, mama (that is what he always calls me) that we are not going to have any supper after our late dinner? Well, I don’t mind much, but I feel as if I could wash down a small piece of cold turkey and a stalk or two of celery.’ And I always tell him if he feels that way, to go to the ice-box and help himself. Which he does and I can’t see but what he eats as heartily as if he had not had such a heavy dinner. But then he is so passionately fond of turkey and the things which go with it.”
After dinner the men were smoking and the ladies were upstairs primping and chatting when everyone was startled by the most terrific banging of tin cans. It sounded as if a whole tin shop was being wrecked.
They all ran to the windows to see what was happening and what they saw caused gales of laughter, for there was Billy Whiskers running around frantically trying to get the ice-cream freezer off his head. He had been nosing around and, discovering the freezer, had tasted the salt on the ice. In endeavoring to get more of the salt, Billy had upset the whole thing and his horns had been caught in the tub that held the freezer and the ice pack. The more he tried to get the tub off his head, the more it stuck.
He tossed his head up and down and tried to bang the tub on the ground and smash it, but it was too strongly made to break. The metal bands held it together. Then he rolled over and over, but no use. He got up and ran as fast as he could, but being unable to see where he was going, the first thing he knew he ran straight into the little duck pond half way down the hill. As he went in, he hit the edge of the tub on the concrete rim of the artificial pond—and he was free! But Billy was so disgusted that instead of coming out where he leaped in, he swam straight across the pond, climbed out and ran down the hill into the woods where he stayed until he recovered from his chagrin, for no one saw him until noon the next day. Billy could not stand it to have anything or anybody get the better of him.
With the exception of this one slight mishap every person at the dinner and every animal and fowl in the barnyard (for they had a double portion to eat, too, as it was Thanksgiving) declared it was the best Thanksgiving Day they had ever passed.
CHAPTER XIX
BILLY BECOMES A MOVIE ACTOR
