uarding
the door outside. The Cow was lying by the cow-tub in the yard. All
looked peaceful and in order.

So the Wizard put all his magic into his tall black hat, shut the door,
and went out.

When he had passed through the farmyard gate he locked and bolted it
behind him. But the lock was very stiff, and in turning and pulling
out the key, his black hat got pushed on one side, so that a little of
the magic escaped, and filtered back through the keyhole.

The Wizard, without stopping to think what might happen, pulled his hat
straight, and went off into the wide world to enjoy his holiday.

The little bit of magic floated slowly in through the farm-yard gate;
over the Cow by the cow-tub; over the little Dog guarding the door;
through the keyhole of the door; over the Cat dozing in front of the
fire; into the corner where stood the Fiddle; into the basket where lay
the Spoon; and finally rested on the Dish on the dresser shelf. The
Dish yawned, steadied himself, slowly dismounted from the dresser, and
balanced himself on the kitchen table.

"Spoon, my love," he said wearily.

"Yes, my sweet," answered the Spoon, tripping out of the basket on to
the table beside him.

"I can make love as well as that, and better," said the Cow, poking her
head through the kitchen window.

"Here we are again!" said the little Dog, bursting in through the door.

The Cat and Fiddle bowed and scraped to each other in the corner.

"Hey, diddle, diddle! The Dog has no manners," squeaked the Fiddle.

"No, indeed," said the Cat, politely.

"Spoon, my love," began the Dish again, "what a miserable life we lead.
Laid down to do the same old things over and over again. Though twice
a day your elegant figure approaches mine, and I see myself reflected
in your shining countenance, yet have I never a chance of telling you
how much I admire you. We have never any opportunity for amusement, or
private conversation. Though you do occasionally scrape me, just to
show me how much you love me. Yet, oh my Spoon, that is not enough. I
am weary, oh my Spoon, of being laid on a dresser or a table. I loathe
that my beautiful form should be covered with gravy or soapy water.
Oh, my Spoon, in these few hours that are before us, let us forget our
miserable and monotonous existence. Let us show the world that we can
twirl and spin with the best of them. Let us dance, my love, let us
dance, and," he continued, pursing his lips, and lowering