“Mercy!” cried a Tomato, running in. “Did you forget me?” He was dressed in a bright red, and wore a tiny yellow cap trimmed with green. “I belong to the Night Shade family, too, and I have fed hundreds and hundreds of people.”
“Oh, you Love Apple!” broke in Potato. “Your relatives haven’t fed people as long as mine have.”
“That must be so,” said Mary Frances. “I remember that my grandma told me that when her mother was young, tomatoes were called love apples, and were thought to be poisonous. Grand-mothers raised them in their gardens, though, because they were pretty.”
“Poisonous!” Tomato’s face turned redder than ever. “Poisonous! Well, I should say! But then, you know how good we are, and that we are excellent for people who eat too much meat.”
“Indeed we do know, don’t we, Mary Frances? We have some of you in our lunch basket,” laughed Eleanor. “Mary Frances has a lot of you growing in her garden, too.”
“Has she any of my brothers and sisters growing in her garden?” asked a new voice.
The girls saw the funniest, fattest brown fellow waddling along.
“Hello, Humpty Dumpty!” cried out Tomato.
“Nonsense,” declared the new-comer, “I’m not Humpty Dumpty! I can prove it; I can fall and you can pick me up again. See?”