And its cheerful light gave zest to our mirth.
My elder sister, addressing me,
“To-morrow’s Thanksgiving, you know,” said she;
“We must kill the chickens to-night, you see.
Now light the lantern and come with me;
I will wring their necks until they are dead,
And have them all dressed ere we go to bed.”
My sister, unused to sights of blood,
And, pale with excitement, trembling stood;
But summoning courage, she laid her plans,