"Didn't you once roll down the hill in a churn?" asked Miss Pinky Pig.
"You bet she did," answered Blacky-ears, who never could hear the tale often enough.
"Well, finally,—and if you'll excuse me, I'll take you out to the kitchen and prepare a bit of supper while I finish my tale—finally, one day the wicked Wandering Wolf grew beside himself with rage and scrambled up onto this roof. The old roof was of shingles, and it makes me shiver even yet to remember how his heavy feet scratched and clawed on the thin wood!
"Well, I was ready for him. I hung this same old iron kettle over my roaring fireplace and—well, do you know, I can never bear to tell anybody what happened next. But until this day I have never seen another wolf," she ended as they seated themselves at the dainty table.
"I heard a wolf once," ventured Blacky-ears.
"Tell her about the time Blacky-ears was lost, Mumsie," urged Little-wee Pig.
And so on and on they talked until Miss Pinky Pig simply had to leave for home.
"And here I intended to talk school all the time," said Mother Grunty as she helped Miss Pinky Pig into her coat. "Won't you come back again next Thursday?" And Miss Pinky Pig said she certainly would.