The level top, though incomplete, Gave pots and pans a welcome seat, Where stews could steam and dumplings found A fitting place to roll around. Some lengths of pipe were raised on high That made the soot and cinders fly, And caused a draught throughout the wreck That door or damper failed to check. The rogues who undertook the part, That tries the cook's delightful art, Had smarting hands and faces red Before the table-cloth was spread; But what cared they at such an hour For singeing flame or scalding shower? Such ills are always reckoned slight When great successes are in sight. There cakes and tarts and cookies fine, Of both the "leaf" and "notched" design, Were ranged in rows around the pan That into heated ovens ran; Where, in what seemed a minute's space, Another batch would take their place; While birds, that had secured repose Above the reach of Reynard's nose, Without the aid of wings came down To be at midnight roasted brown. They found some boards and benches laid Aside by workmen at their trade, And these upon the green were placed By willing hands with proper haste. Said one, who board and bench combined: "All art is not to cooks confined, And some expertness we can show As well as those who mix the dough." And all was as the speaker said; In fact, they were some points ahead; For when the cooks their triumphs showed, The table waited for its load. The knives and forks and dishes white By secret methods came to light. Much space would be required to tell Just how the table looked so well; But kitchen cupboards, three or four, Must there have yielded up their store; For all the guests on every side With full equipments were supplied. When people find a carver hacked, A saucer chipped, or platter cracked, They should be somewhat slow to claim That servants are the ones to blame; For Brownies may have used the ware And failed to show the proper care. [Illustration]