“Certainly,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “My mother was watching it, and she followed to see where it would go. It went down to the bank of the river. There it found the old man who had given my mother the string of beads, and asked him for something to eat.
“‘Comb my hair for me,’ said the old man.
“But it refused, and then the old man told it to go to the pumpkin-tree and ask for twenty pumpkins. The greedy thing was glad to do this. It went to the tree and called for twenty pumpkins, and down they fell on its head.”
“What then?” asked Buster John, as Mr. Thimblefinger paused. “Was it hurt?”
“Smashed!” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. “Knocked flatter than a pancake! Broke into jiblets!”
“It was a great waste of pumpkins,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.