Then he caught sight of the Ink-Bottle Mamma, and he bowed to her politely and helped her out. The man who owned the automobile looked at the farmer and said, “Will you have a ride, good people?” Now the farmer and his wife had never ridden in an automobile in their lives. The Ink-Bottle Mamma said, “Go right along; don’t mind us; we will get the dinner!” The farmer said, “Wait till I get some turkeys and ducks ready for dinner,” and the farmer’s wife said, “Wait till I make a few dozen pies!” At the word “pies,” the Ink-Bottle Babies set up a shout, and each one made a low bow and presented the farmer’s wife with a little pie. She was so surprised that she hardly knew what to say. The farmer called, “Put on your old gray bonnet!” Then the Babies began to sing, “Put on your old gray bonnet, With the blue ribbons on it!” Then the stranger said, “You are very sweet singers!” Soon the farmer and his wife were ready, and they went whizzing away in the automobile. Then the Ink-Bottle Mamma began to cook the turkeys and many other things, and the Ink-Bottle Babies had the table all set by the time the farmer and his wife returned. Did they have a big dinner? Well, I guess they did. They had turkey and duck, and sweet-potatoes and white potatoes, and squash, and carrots, and rice, and jelly, and pickles, and pudding, and cranberry sauce, and cake, and ice cream, and pumpkin pies! The farmer and his wife said, “We never had such a happy Thanksgiving before!” The Ink-Bottle Babies cried, “Hurrah for the turkey! Hurrah for the pumpkin pies!” [Illustration: “_Presented the farmer’s wife with a little pie_”] After dinner the Babies begged for a story. They said, “Read us a fairy tale; please read us a fairy tale!” The farmer’s wife said, “I have broken my glasses and I cannot see to read, but Pa will tell you a story!” Then the farmer grew quite red in the face and said, “I don’t know any fairy stories; honestly I don’t!” “You know about the fox and the crow,” said the farmer’s wife. Then the Babies climbed up on his chair and on his knees and there was no way out of it; he had to begin: “There once was a crow, and at early morn He spied the farmer’s field of corn; He said, ‘As sure as I am born, I’ll have that corn, heigh-o!’” “Go on! Go on!” shouted all the Babies. “Tell about the fox. Please tell us some more.” Then the farmer said: “There once was a fox so very sly He knew that farmer’s field hard by; ‘To catch the crow, I’m going to try,’ Said the fox with a soft heigh-o!” Then the farmer stopped. The Babies begged him to go on but he said, “Honestly that is all I know.” “Did the crow get the corn?” asked Molly. “Did the fox get the crow?” asked Polly. “I don’t know,” said the farmer. “How can I tell about such things? I only went to school one year in all my life.” “Oh,” said the Ink-Bottle Babies, “we intend to go to school for seventeen years!”