Don’t let it remain in my sight.’
“They were carried off that very day,
And thrown on the rubbish heap.
The preserved meat tin was completely smothered
In ashes and dirt, while the kettle was covered
With cinders about a foot deep.”
“Poor things,” said Girlie, laughing; “but it served them right, though, didn’t it, for thinking such a lot of themselves?”
“Certainly it did,” replied the Crow, “and, besides that, the kettle had had one warning before. Pride always has a fall, you know, and he had had one—that was how he came to get the dent in his left side. Were you ever on speaking terms with a kettle?” he inquired.
“No, never,” said Girlie, laughing at the idea.
“No, I suppose not,” said the Crow in a pitying voice; “they are rather particular to whom they speak, and I suppose they would draw the line at a pig.”