She returned to the living-room and sat looking at the pie as she rested.
"I'd best put you on the kitchen table," she mused.

"Likely he will see you there first and eat you while you are fresh.

I'd hate mortal bad for him to overlook you, and let you get stale, after all the care I've took with your crust, and all the sugar, cinnamon, and butter that's under your lid.

You're a mighty nice pie, and you ort to be et hot.

Now why under the sun is all them clean letters pitched in the fireplace ?" Granny knelt and selecting one, she blew off the ashes, wiped it with her apron and read: "To Ruth, in care of the fire fairies." "What the Sam Hill is the idiot writin' his woman like that for ?" cried Granny, bristling instantly.