Some said, 'Slow';
Some said, 'Skim it off,'
Some said, 'No';
Some said, 'Pepper,'
Some said, 'Salt';--
All gave good advice,
All found fault.

Poor little Tommy Trottett!
Couldn't eat it when he got it."

"I like that," said Buddie. "Oh, and I've just thought of another old
ax--I mean saw, if it _is_ one--Don't count your chickens before they
are hatched. Do you sing that?"

"One of my best," replied the Donkey. And again he sang:

"'Thirteen eggs,' said Sammy Patch,
'Are thirteen chickens when they hatch.'
The hen gave a cluck, but said no more;
For the hen had heard such things before.

The eggs fall out from tilted pail
And leave behind a yellow trail;
But Sammy,--counting, as he goes,
Upon his fingers,--never knows.

Oh, Sammy Patch, your 'rithmetic
Won't hatch a solitary chick."