To find a way to get some pants,
And maybe too, a fancy vest
And derby hats, and all the rest,
All we can do is weave a spell
And make ourselves invis-i-ble.
"That," said the Cannibal Chief, "covers the case completely. In other words, we're the most refined savages you ever met."
"Then," said Frip, "if you're so refined, what do you want to be cannibals for? And why do you wish to eat that poor Gingerbread Man? That's not very refined."
"Not very refined—I admit it," responded the Cannibal Chief, "but very necessary, for meals come before manners. And speaking of meals, I was thinking of asking you to join us at dinner. We'll have the Gingerbread Man for dessert."
"Oh," cried Frip, "I couldn't think of eating the Gingerbread Man, though I must say he smells awfully good when he's warmed up."
"That's all right," said the Cannibal Chief, "you won't have to eat the Gingerbread Man, in fact, you won't be here to do it. We're going to eat you first."