"That may be all very true," said the landlord, "but if the real live boy ate one of those pies he would cease to be a real live boy. You see this pie is made of rubber, and all you've got to do is to blow it up with an air pump and serve it."
"But you called it mince pie," said Jimmieboy, very much disgusted.
"Well, it's my pie," said the landlord. "I guess I've got a right to call it what I please."
"But you said it saved doctors' bills," put in Bikey, who was no better pleased with this absurd invention than was Jimmieboy.
"And I said right," said the landlord, with a self-satisfied smile. "It's just this way:—If you eat mince pie it gives you indigestion and you have to send for the doctor, and then you get a bill for several dollars. Now, with my pie it's different. You can't eat it, and therefore you can't get indigestion, and you don't have to send for a doctor. Wherefore, as I said, it saves doctors' bills. This is the latest make—I make a new kind every year, just as the bicycle makers make new wheels every year. A 1902 safety pneumatic mince pie costs $2; a 1901 pie I sell for $1.50."
"And what is the difference?" asked Jimmieboy, beginning to be amused.
"The air in this year's pie is fresher, that's all," said the landlord.
"I suppose your air biscuits are of the same kind?" asked Bikey.
"Yes," said the landlord, "except that I flavor 'em. If you're fond of vanilla, or strawberry, or any other flavor, I perfume the air that is pumped into them. They're very nice."