“J-J-J-Jimminie f-f-f-fishhooks,” stuttered the Dunce, as he watched the Clown sip the delicious cocoa, “I-I-I-I wish I’d have fallen into the pan so I could get some of that good cocoa.”
“You don’t need to fall into a pan to get some,” laughed the kind hearted little Cook, “I’ll bring you some,” and in a few seconds he handed the Dunce a steaming cup.
“Crickety, but this is good,” cried the Dunce, as he sat down beside the Clown. “J-J-J-Jimminie, I’m glad you fell into that pan.”
“So am I,” answered the Clown, as he drained his cup.
“Now I want you to tell me how this happened,” said the General when the Clown had finished his cocoa.
“Why, a couple of us were skating,” said the Clown, “and all at once the ice cracked, and—and I fell in!”
“Now then, I don’t want to hear of any more skating in pans,” said the General, shaking his finger at the open-mouthed Teenie Weenies, standing about.
“Yes, sir,” several meekly answered.
“That is,” continued the General, “unless they are shallow pie pans, out of which you could wade. Remember!”
“We will,” promised the little people.