"'Now let us have a dance,' said the fire tongs. Then how they danced and stuck one leg in the air! The chair cushion in the corner burst with laughter at the sight.
"'Shall I be crowned now?' asked the fire tongs. So the broom found another wreath for the tongs.
"'They are only common people after all,' thought the matches. The tea urn was now asked to sing, but she said she had a cold and could not sing unless she felt boiling heat within. They all thought this was affectation; they also considered it affectation that she did not wish to sing except in the parlor, when on the table with the grand people.
"In the window sat an old quill pen, with which the maid generally wrote. There was nothing remarkable about the pen, except that it had been dipped too deeply in the ink; but it was proud of that.
"'If the tea urn won't sing,' said the pen, 'she needn't. There's a nightingale in a cage outside, that can sing. She has not been taught much, certainly, but we need not say anything this evening about that.'
"'I think it highly improper,' said the teakettle, who was kitchen singer and half brother to the tea urn, 'that a rich foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the market basket decide what is right.'
"'I certainly am vexed,' said the basket, 'inwardly vexed, more than any one can imagine. Are we spending the evening properly? Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each were in his own place, I would lead a game. This would be quite another thing.'
"'Let us act a play,' said they all. At the same moment the door opened and the maid came in. Then not one stirred; they remained quite still, although there was not a single pot among them that had not a high opinion of himself and of what he could do if he chose.
"'Yes, if we had chosen,' each of them thought, 'we might have spent a very pleasant evening.'
"The maid took the matches and lighted them, and dear me, how they spluttered and blazed up!