“But I’m not sure whether it is or not,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Some day you and I will go out into the great, broad world. Then we shall see who will be first and who will be second. The great, broad world is the best place of all wherein to find ourselves. And no matter how we were situated before, we shall certainly be situated differently in the great broad world. In the great broad world there will be apples--apples enough for you and for me. But, who knows? you poor miserable little rat; it may be that your lot will be _all_ the sweet, juicy apples, whilst I shall be given the cores. In the great broad world there will be ripe-red-raspberry shortcake--enough for you and for me. But, who knows? you poor miserable little rat; it may be that your lot will be all the ripe red raspberries, whilst I shall be given the crusts. In the great broad world there will be cigarettes--cigarettes enough for you and for me. But, who knows? You poor miserable little rat; it may be that your lot will be _all_ the fine Egyptian tobacco and rice paper and clouds and clouds and clouds of pearl gray, soft pearl gray, to wrap you round, whilst I shall go looking in empty boxes all day long, and never a cigarette. In which case mine will be by far the better lot in the end,” said my friend Annabel Lee, “according to the law of compensation.” “Oh, dear!” said my friend Annabel Lee, petulantly; “why do you sit there stupidly staring? Talk and amuse me, why don’t you? Make me feel sweet and content.” “If I were but that myself, Annabel Lee,” said I. “I can not talk interestingly, but if you like I will ask you the proverbs and you may answer them. That amused me much--and it gave me a wonderful feeling of satisfaction, quite as if I were seven years old and knew my lesson perfectly.” “You ask and I answer?” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Very good. But I don’t know my lesson perfectly. Begin.” “What’s a bird in the hand worth?” said I. “A pound of cure,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What does a stitch in time save?” said I. “Two in the bush,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Where does charity begin?” said I. “Betwixt the cup and the lip,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What may a cat look at?” said I. “The broth,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What does many a mickle make?” said I. “A multitude of sins,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What do too many cooks spoil?” said I. “Us all,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Whom does conscience make cowards of?” said I. “Dead men and fools,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What is it that has no turning?” said I. “A full stomach,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What fortifies a stout heart?” said I. “A stitch in time,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What does money make?” said I. “An ill wind,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “What will the pounds do if you take care of the pence?” said I. “Come home to roost,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Where is there many a slip?” said I.