y went to the pot and ate both. The children told her how it
happened, but she wouldn't believe them. She said she couldn't be made
to believe that one puny little baby could eat two whole pumpkins--and
it _is_ very queer, when you come to think about it.

"The next day she cooked three pumpkins, but the same thing happened.
Then four, then five, then six. But it was always the same. No matter
how many pumpkins were cooked, the stray baby would eat them all, and
the rest of the children would have to go hungry. You see how small I
am," said Mr. Thimblefinger, suddenly pausing in the thread of his
story. "Well, the reason of it is that I was starved out by that
pumpkin-eating baby. My brothers and sisters and myself were just as
large and as healthy as any other children until that baby was found
on the gate-post, and from that day we began to dwindle and shrink
away.

"Well, we starved and starved until at last my mother could very
plainly see that something was the matter. So she set a trap for the
baby and baited it with pumpkins. She hadn't got out of hearing before
the baby put his head in the pot and got caught in the trap. It stayed
there all day, and when mother came home at night she found it there.
She was very much surprised, but she saw she must get rid of the baby.
She said that any creature that could manage to eat like that was able
to take care of itself, and so she carried it off down the road and
left it there.

"Now this Pumpkin-Eater was a witch baby, and as soon as it thought my
mother was out of sight and hearing it changed itself into a tall,
heavy man."

"'T wuz feedin' de big man all de time," exclaimed Drusilla.

"Certainly," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "My mother was watching it,
and she followed to see where it would go. It went down to the bank of
the river. There it found the old man who had given my mother the
string of beads, and asked him for something to eat.

"'Comb my hair for me,' said the old man.

"But it refused, and then the old man told it to go to the
pumpkin-tree and ask for twenty pumpkins. The greedy thing was glad to
do this. It went to the tree and called for twenty pumpkins, and down
they fell on its head."

"What then?" asked Buster John, as Mr. Thimblefinger paused. "Was it
hurt?"

"Smashed!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. "Knocked flatter than a
pancake! Broke into jiblets!"

"It was a great waste of pumpkins," remarked Mrs. Meadows.

V.

THE TALKING