The Mary Frances cook book

by Jane Eayre Fryer

"You do, do you?" bubbled Tea Kettle. "You do! Well, what do you dare tell me?"

"I dare tell you, Mister," said Iron Pot, "that you've got a dirty face—yes, a black face."

Tea Kettle, it was plain to be seen, was boiling mad. Steam blew out of his nose in every direction.

Now, everybody who knows anything about a tea kettle can imagine how very angry Tea Kettle was.

As soon as he could get his breath, he blew steam all over Iron Pot.

"My face is black, is it? Well, yours is black,—and it will soon be black and blue!"

"You swallow them words!" and Iron Pot raised his queer little fists.

"Sput!" mocked Tea Kettle, getting ready to spout again. "Take that!"

Wang! came down the little fist,—but not on the lid of Tea Kettle. Oh, no; for just as that was going to happen, Mary Frances lifted him high in the air.