"What's the grudge?" queried the Horse.
"You kicked me and my friend the Whiffletree that day you ran away down in the hay field," replied the Wagon. "I was dreadfully upset that day."
"I should say you were," put in the Rake. "And when you were upset you fell on me and knocked out five of my teeth. I never had such a time."
"You needed to have something done to those teeth, anyhow," said the Sickle. "They were nearly all gone when that happened."
"Oh, were they?" retorted the Rake. "And why were they nearly all gone? Do you know that?"
"I do not. I suppose you had been trying to crack chestnuts with them. Was that it?"
"No, it wasn't," retorted the Rake. "They were worn out cleaning up the lawns after you pretended to have finished them off."
"You think you're bright, don't you?" replied the Sickle, with a sneer.
"Well, if I was as dull as you are," returned the Rake, angrily, "I'd visit the Grindstone and get him to put a little more edge on me."
"Come, come; don't be so quarrelsome," said the Hose. "If you don't stop, I'll drown the whole lot of you."