“I’m a careless potato, and care not a pin
How into existence I came;
If they planted me drill-wise or dibbled me in,
To me ’tis exactly the same.
The bean and the pea may more loftily tower,
But I care not a button for them.
Defiance I nod with my beautiful flower
When the earth is hoed up to my stem.”
“Oo-hoo!” came a voice from the Lodge. “Come in and help.”
“There’s Dorothy calling,” cried Ethel Brown, and they all moved toward the house where they found their cousin on the back porch with an array of plates, bowls, stones, small plants, tiny trees and small china figures before her.