"You come back here; you're my pumpkin," cried Antone and started after the runaway. Babette followed, weeping and crying aloud.
"Oh, my Halloween frolic! Oh, my Halloween frolic!" she mourned. "Now we have no jack-o'-lantern and no candle either."
"But just you wait until he rolls down into the vegetable garden," shouted Antone, as he chased the swiftly rolling pumpkin. "He'll have to stop at the hedge." He took his little sister's hand that she might run faster. Pumpkin rolled along just in front of them but always just out of their reach. When he reached the hedge, he gave a great leap and landed directly in the vegetable patch.
"Come on, you Turnips! Come on, you Carrots!" called Pumpkin, as he rolled along. At his words the Carrots and Turnips tore themselves from their beds and followed after him, shouting.
"Come on! Come on!" called Pumpkin, and Parsnips and Beets followed the Carrots and Turnips.
"Look at Antone following us," yelled Pumpkin, and all his vegetable followers turned and laughed in derision.
"Ordinary nights you may be master, Antone," cried they, "but not on Halloween. This is our night."
"Well, you wait until I catch you and then see how hard you'll laugh," called Antone angrily. To see his vegetable patch laid waste made him furious.
"But you'll wait until you catch us before you punish us, won't you, Antone?" they answered mockingly.
"Oh, it's Halloween! It's Halloween!" sang Pumpkin, turning handsprings as he rolled along, and the rest of the vegetables did cartwheels as they went careering after him. They looked like a dozen market stalls upset on the hillside, and poor Antone nearly wept when he thought of his loss. He followed them with determination. Antone was not a lad to give up easily.