“How much was the premium?” asked the boy. He yawned; he had heard all these facts so often before.
TOOK THE FIRST PREMIUM AT THE COUNTY FAIR.
“It was fifty cents; but you see the farmer had to pay two dollars to get a chance to try for the premium at the fair; and so it was some satisfaction. Anyway, he took the premium, and he tried to sell the pumpkin, and when he couldn't, he brought it home and told his wife they must have it for Thanksgiving. The boy had gathered the bad little pumpkin, and kept it from being fed to the cow, it was so funny-looking; and the day before Thanksgiving the farmer found it in the barn, and he said,
“‘Hollo! Here's that little fool pumpkin. Wonder if it thinks it's a morning-glory yet?’
“And the boy said, ‘Oh, father, mayn't I have it?’
“And the father said, ‘Guess so. What are you going to do with it?’
“But the boy didn't tell, because he was going to keep it for a surprise; but as soon as his father went out of the barn, he picked up the bad little pumpkin by its long neck, and he kind of balanced it before him, and he said, ‘Well, now, I'm going to make a pumpkin-glory out of you!’