"He said, 'Miss Prudy, I'm going to be married.' Only think! and he such a very old bachelor."
"Did thee dream out the bride?"
"It was Mother Goose."
"Very well," said Mrs. Read, smiling. "I should think that was a very good match."
"She did look so funny, grandma, with a great hump on her nose, and one on her back! Santa Claus kissed her; and what do you think she said?"
"I am sure I can't tell; I am not acquainted with thy fairy folks."
"Why, she shook her sides, and, said she, 'Sing a song o' sixpence.'"
"That was as sensible a speech as thee could expect from that quarter."
"O, grandma, you don't care anything about my dream, or I could go on and describe the wedding-cake; how she put sage in it, and pepper, and mustard, and baked it on top of one of our registers. What do you suppose made me dream such a queer thing?"
"Thee was probably thinking of thy mother's wedding."