_Genius of Thanksgiving_. So? Good! Child, do. And you shall have my thanks. _Enter_ Miss Mince Pie, _dressed in mixed black and white_. _All shout_. Oh, late Mince Pie! What has made thee late? _Miss Mince Pie_. Your honor, I got lost. I thought I would take a short way hither, and it proved thrice as long as the other. I came whizzing, and nearly left my breath behind me. _Genius of Thanksgiving_. Next time, Miss Mince Pie, take your shortening in your crust, and don't put it into your feet. But listen. Have you spices and boiled cider, apples and beef, so as to make us a right merry mince pie to eat after the Forresters' turkey to-morrow? Good heavens! It's to-day. The night is waning. We must hasten. _Miss Mince Pie_. Your honor, as fine a mince pie as ever went on a Thanksgiving table shall be ready for Ethel Forrester's dinner to-morrow. _Genius of Thanksgiving_. Thanks. And now where is the cranberry jelly? _Red Cranberry_. Your honor, I have a fine mould ready. _Genius of Thanksgiving_. Ah! Red Cranberry, you are just the sprite to attend to that. And Beets, Carrots, and Turnips? _Beets, Carrots, and Turnips_. Here, sir. I will furnish a goodly array of vegetables. _Genius of Thanksgiving_. Golden Pumpkin, a pie from you, rich, thick, and yellow. Plenty of cream and eggs, sirrah. _Golden Pumpkin_. I know a good pie when I see it. _Genius of Thanksgiving_. Rosy-cheeked Apple, some of your best, please? _Rosy-cheeked Apple_. I have beauties, sir. _Enter_ Elgin. _Elgin_. Good-morning, your honor, and you, sprites. I was hurrying here, and passed a beautiful young lady combing her hair. She seemed nowise in a hurry. Miss Celery-- _All_. Miss Celery! Where is she? No dinner can be complete on Thanksgiving day without her. _Enter_ Miss Celery, _dressed in white and green_. _Miss Celery_. Did you call? I did but sleep a little, but methought you called. _Genius of Thanksgiving_ (_sternly_). We did call. 'Tis no time to sleep, the night before Thanksgiving. Have you, miss, two nice crisp bunches of celery? _Miss Celery_. Yes, your honor, four if you like. _Genius of Thanksgiving_. No, two. But your very best. And now, Fairies, the dinner is arranged. The night passes. My sprites must be busy. Go, children, weave a spell over the ovens. Let nothing burn. Have everything well baked. See to the dinners of the poor as well as the rich. Let no one go hungry on Thanksgiving day. And see to it that Ethel Forrester's dinner is complete. _First Fairy_. Dear good Genius of Thanksgiving! How can we thank you enough? _Second Fairy_. Dear friend, how old are you? Pardon the question, but I am mystified--you seem so old and so young. _Genius of Thanksgiving_.