you put in an ounce or two, gratis of course, with every order."

"You will 'ave your joke," murmured the Mayor. "But I like it in you.
I'm a man that never takes a joke amiss. Let's go for a walk together."

"No," said the witch. "I am so hungry that my ribs are beginning to bend
inwards. I must go and have sausages and mash and two apple dumplings."

They found themselves presently seated at the marble-topped table of an
A.B.C. After an interval that could hardly be accurately described as
presently, sausages and mash dawned on the horizon, and the witch waved
her fork rudely at it as it approached.

"Mashed is splendid stuff to sculp with," she said, roughing in a ground
plan upon her plate with the sure carelessness of the artist. "This is
going to be an ivory castle built upon a rock in a glassy sea. The
sausage is the dragon guarding it, and this little crumb of bread is the
emprisoned princess, a dull but sterling creature----"

"Look 'ere, Miss Watkins," interrupted the Mayor. "I'm not as a rule an
impulsive man, and I don't want to startle you----"

"How d'you mean startle me?" asked the witch. "You haven't startled me
at all. But the fact is, I never have been much of a person for getting
married, thank you very much. I'm an awful bad house-keeper. And I _do_
so much enjoy having no money."

"Well, I'm blessed," exclaimed the Mayor. "You're a perfect witch, I
declare." He laid a large meat-like hand upon hers. "But you know, you
can't put the lid on me so easy as that. Ever since you came into that