"As ready as it is ever going to be. I've chopped till my arm is almost broken."
"So I see! It looks as if you had cracked it. Well, now, it isn't time yet to make the rolls, so we can take breath a bit. Come out on the porch, and let us play something till the kettle boils."
"I don't feel like playing!" said Willy, dolefully; "I don't feel like doing anything, Mammy."
Mrs. Merryweather looked at him a moment; then taking his hands in hers, she said suddenly, "'For heaven's sake let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings!' That is a passage from Richard II., and it seems to fit the occasion. Sit down, Willy; right here on the floor by me; I'll begin. Two minutes for composition!"
She was silent, looking out over the water, while Willy glanced sidewise at her, half-interested in spite of himself.
"I have it!" she said, presently.
"King John put on such frightful airs,
He met his death by eating pears.
"Your turn, Willy! two minutes!"
"Oh, Mammy, I can't play!"
"But you are playing. Only one minute more."