"If there's a fuss--if a Pot should allude As a 'mug' to a China Cup, There's always a clatter Of jug, plate, and platter, Till somebody washes them up." "It's disgraceful to go on like this!" complained the Milk-jug, looking rather broken-down about the handle. "Ah!" said the Teapot with a sneer, "when one only dates from 1887, and hasn't a handle to one's back, one should retire to the seclusion of the cupboard, and remain there as a curio." "There was once a Jubilee Jug-gins, Jug-jug-juggins," hummed the Kettle. "Poor old crock!" said the Sugar-basin sweetly, melting with pity through all her composition. For she was his inseparable companion, and knew that the Milk-jug was full of human kindness, and useful still. "Never mind the quarrelling, darlings," whispered the gentlemanly Spoons to their lady friends, whom they had taken in to tea, "we will protect you." "Upon my word!" exclaimed she from Margate, "I'm glad _I_ was not born in China. Where I come from rudeness is unknown." The Kettle took up the idea and sang gaily-- "They're pottery, porcelain, colour, and gold, They come from the china shop, Where crockery's bought, and the customer's sold, And the Bull galloped in so angry and bold, And when the poor, terrified shopkeeper told Him to go, he did nothing but stop." "You ought to have a will of iron if you're made of the right stuff," she continued, addressing the Tray; "you ought to keep order, but you say nothing and do less." "You see, he's only a waiter--slow and unpolished," added the Teapot spitefully. "My view, if I may express it--" broke in the Cup from Margate. "When I want your view, either of Margate or of politeness," retorted the Tray, interrupting the remark, "I'll ask for it. If I'd the chance I'd drop the whole lot of you, and get friendly with a new set, that I would!" Whereupon the irrepressible Kettle chirruped-- "Then he'd pay the expense of the mender's bill-- The mender is Doctor, you see-- Who makes out an order, A matter of sawder And rivets, cement, and a fee." "You're always brewing mischief!" said Nurse's Cup angrily to the Teapot; "there'll be no peace for any of us where you are." "That's true!" screamed out the little Tea-leaves inside the pot; "he's always getting us into hot water." "I'll draw the tannin out of the whole ounce of you! You're about as sensible as mortals who haven't the wit to understand us. But when we go cracked like Muggins over there, or stony broke like the Juggins next to him, or get smashed up altogether with age or lack of care, they take notice of us at last, and then there is a mighty fine fuss." At this the Kettle, getting somewhat out of breath from his exertions, bubbled out in a high key--