inkled like
a million little bells and the portrait of his mother-in-law fell off
the wall with a dreadful crash, "I never heard anything so funny
before," and he picked up the portrait and laughed again, only this
time even louder, for his mother-in-law's picture was all smashed to
smithereens!

"Well, that's easy," he said after wiping his eyes. "Tomorrow will be
Thanksgiving and you shall dine with me. And after dinner I'll give
you a magic knife and if you can't make a whistle out of the drumstick
bone, I'll have another portrait made of my mother-in-law."

"That's very good of you," said little Mary Louise.

"Don't mention it," replied the giant. "I have a book that once
belonged to my boy when he was a little fellow. It's called the
Iceberg Express, and you look so like the little girl on the cover that
I'd almost believe you were she."

"I am, I am," shouted Mary Louise, jumping out of her chair. "And
that's the reason I wanted to sit in the big Wishing Stone chair. I was
going to wish I was home with mother."

"You don't say so," exclaimed Mr. Merry Laugh. "Well, well, well. It
takes me back to the time when my boy was a little fellow and sat on my
knee to hear me read Little Journeys to Happyland. How time flies!"
And the big kind giant took his pocket handkerchief out again to wipe
his blue eyes, and after that he went over to the piano and sang:

"If I had my little boy again
How happy I should be,
I'd piggy-back him all around
And trundle him on my knee.

"But oh, dear me. It's so long ago,
And he's been away so long,
That all I can do is to wish and wish
That he could hear this song."

"Dear me," said little Mary Louise, when the giant had finished. "You
want your little boy and I want my mother."

Well pretty soon when Mary Louise walked into the dining room she saw
the most wonderful turkey that ever graced a Thanksgiving table. Why,
it weighed upty'leven pounds and was stuffed with a bushel of chestnuts.

"Now eat slowly and tuck your napkin under your chin," said Mr. Merry
Laugh, "for we don't have Thanksgiving every day, although we ought to
be thankful every day, just the same." And he stuck in the fork which
was as big as a pitch-fork and began to carve with a knife that was
even larger than General Pershing's sword.

Well, after a while, a mince pie was brought in, so large that it would
have taken Mary Louise thirteen minutes to walk around it if th