The Story of the Mince Pie

He paused and gazed about in a dramatic way that convulsed Jack, who whispered:

“Isn’t he funny, Mother, so long and lank, and such an expression I never saw!”

“Did any of you ever hear of cinnamon candy?” continued the speaker. “Could it be cinnamon candy without me?”

As no one replied to this, he cried:

“Certainly not! and now I will show you where I grow. It is right here,” and, with one stride of his long legs one foot rested on the Island of Ceylon in the Indian Ocean near Persia.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cinnamon, but where did you get your seven-league boots?” asked the Vinegar Cruet.

“They grew on me, so I didn’t need to buy them. You can’t tease me that way. I can’t help it because I am long legged any more than you can help looking sour. When you turn sweet I’ll have short legs; that’s a bargain. Send me an invitation to your candy pull.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please excuse this rude interruption, and I will proceed.

“When the cinnamon trees are almost two years old small branches are cut off and the outer bark removed, leaving the inner bark, which is then peeled off and dried.

“In drying it takes the form of rolls called quills, the smaller ones, as they dry, are thrust into the larger. Sometimes it is ground fine and packed in bags.

“I am not only used in flavouring food, but in many medicines.

“Now I think the spices have finished their tales, and we can have a complete change of programme.”

“And so the secret never was told till now, and it will still be a secret, for pie people never never tell, and now good-bye till you wish for me again.”

The light-hearted, joyous-natured Currant Doll wiped his tears away as he bowed and wailed:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am, though maybe I don’t look it.”

“Am what?” queried the audience sympathetically.

“Am what he said—light hearted and gay—and though my story is short I am just as important as any of you. What good would a bun be without currants? Just tell me that!” he cried in tragic tones, striking such a funny attitude even Mother stifled a giggle.

“I came from a beautiful vine that grows in the lowlands of Zante of the Ionian Islands belonging to Greece. I’ll show you the very spot.”

Here the audience was much surprised to see the light-hearted creature turn a somersault down the slippery side of the globe and land in a nest of small dots.