As I regard this treasure, I grow faint when I remember with what unnecessary force my father bore down when he carved the ham.

I'll bet a cooky he split those orange trees.

Now me----I'll never dare touch knife to it again.

I'll always carve the meat on the broiler, and gently lift it to this platter with a fork.

Or am I not to be allowed to dine from my ancestral treasure again ?" "Not in a green and yellow room," laughed the Girl.