"You see, he's only a waiter—slow and unpolished," added the Teapot spitefully.
"My view, if I may express it—" broke in the Cup from Margate.
"When I want your view, either of Margate or of politeness," retorted the Tray, interrupting the remark, "I'll ask for it. If I'd the chance I'd drop the whole lot of you, and get friendly with a new set, that I would!"
Whereupon the irrepressible Kettle chirruped—
"Then he'd pay the expense of the mender's bill—
The mender is Doctor, you see—
Who makes out an order,
A matter of sawder
And rivets, cement, and a fee."
"You're always brewing mischief!" said Nurse's Cup angrily to the Teapot; "there'll be no peace for any of us where you are."
"That's true!" screamed out the little Tea-leaves inside the pot; "he's always getting us into hot water."
"I'll draw the tannin out of the whole ounce of you! You're about as sensible as mortals who haven't the wit to understand us. But when we go cracked like Muggins over there, or stony broke like the Juggins next to him, or get smashed up altogether with age or lack of care, they take notice of us at last, and then there is a mighty fine fuss."
At this the Kettle, getting somewhat out of breath from his exertions, bubbled out in a high key—
"They're Wedgwood, Staffordshire, Japanese too,
They're a breakable lot, we know;
When any one cracks any,
Chelsea or Saxony,
Dresden, or Worcester, or Bow,
They make as much shindy
As if a big windy
Was shivered to bits by a blow."