The Flying Trunk Page #2

								

liberal, I can tell you.'

"'You are talking too much,' said the tinder-box, and the steel
struck against the flint till some sparks flew out, crying, 'We want a
merry evening, don't we?'

"'Yes, of course,' said the matches, 'let us talk about those
who are the highest born.'

"'No, I don't like to be always talking of what we are,'
remarked the saucepan; 'let us think of some other amusement; I will
begin. We will tell something that has happened to ourselves; that
will be very easy, and interesting as well. On the Baltic Sea, near
the Danish shore'--

"'What a pretty commencement!' said the plates; 'we shall all
like that story, I am sure.'

"'Yes; well in my youth, I lived in a quiet family, where the
furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and clean curtains put
up every fortnight.'

"'What an interesting way you have of relating a story,' said
the carpet-broom; 'it is easy to perceive that you have been a great
deal in women's society, there is something so pure runs through
what you say.'

"'That is quite true,' said the water-bucket; and he made a spring
with joy, and splashed some water on the floor.

"Then the saucepan went on with his story, and the end was as good
as the beginning.

"The plates rattled with pleasure, and the carpet-broom brought
some green parsley out of the dust-hole and crowned the saucepan,
for he knew it would vex the others; and he thought, 'If I crown him
to-day he will crown me to-morrow.'

"'Now, let us have a dance,' said the fire-tongs; and then how
they danced and stuck up one leg in the air. The chair-cushion in
the corner burst with laughter when she saw it.

"'Shall I be crowned now?' asked the fire-tongs; so the broom
found another wreath for the tongs.

"'They were only common people after all,' thought the matches.
The tea-urn was now asked to sing, but she said she had a cold, and
could not sing without boiling heat. They all thought this was
affectation, and because she did not wish to sing excepting in the
parlor, when on the table with the grand people.

"In the window sat an old quill-pen, with which the maid generally
wrote. There was nothing remarkable about the pen, excepting that it
had been dipped too deeply in the ink, but it was proud of that.

"'If the tea-urn won't sing,' said the pen, 'she can leave it
alone; there is a nightingale in a cage who can sing; she has not been
taught much, certainly, but we need not say anything this evening
about that.'

"'I think it highly improper,' said the tea-kettle, who was
kitchen singer, and half-brother to the tea-urn, 'that a rich
foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the
market-basket decide what is right.'

"'I certainly am vexed,' said the basket; 'inwardly vexed, more
than any one can imagine. Are we spending the evening properly?
Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each
were in his own place I would lead a game; this would be quite another
thing.'

"'Let us act a play,' said they all. At the same moment the door
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