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“ I see you have a tine with you,” said Mr.
Mack, looking at the tine I carried. “ Have
you something to seil, perhaps? And where
may these pretty little ladies be from?”
“ I-pi sell-pell butter-putter,” said I.
“We are from the Land of Fantasv,” said
Massa, without attempting P-speech again.
“Why! They don’t make butter in the
Land of Fantasy, do they? ” asked Mrs. Mack,
Just then the servant came in with an
im-mense tray, and on it was something very
dif-ferent from Mrs. Berg’s camphorated cookies,
I assure you! I thought with grief of my
mask mouth no bigger than a savings-bank
slit.
“And now what about unmasking? ” said
Mr. Mack. “ That is, if these ladies from the
Land of Fantasy are willing to liven up an
evening for a couple of old people.”
Were willing! We took our masks off in
a jiffy. But, would you believe it? Mr. Mack
said he knew me the very minute we came
in!
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