“Do you really prefer muffin? Mind the patty-pan!”

“I beg your pardon?” said Ribby.

“May I pass you the marmalade?” said Duchess hurriedly.

The pie proved extremely toothsome, and the muffins light and hot. They disappeared rapidly, especially the pie!

“I think” – (thought the Duchess to herself) – “I think it would be wiser if I helped myself to pie; though Ribby did not seem to notice anything when she was cutting it. What very small fine pieces it has cooked into! I did not remember that I had minced it up so fine; I suppose this is a quicker oven than my own.”

“How fast Duchess is eating!” thought Ribby to herself, as she buttered her fifth muffin.

The pie-dish was emptying rapidly! Duchess had had four helps already, and was fumbling with the spoon.

“A little more bacon, my dear Duchess?” said Ribby.

WHERE IS THE PATTY-PAN?

“Thank you, my dear Ribby; I was only feeling for the patty-pan.”

“The patty-pan? my dear Duchess?”

“The patty-pan that held up the pie-crust,” said Duchess, blushing under her black coat.

“Oh, I didn’t put one in, my dear Duchess,” said Ribby; “I don’t think that it is necessary in pies made of mouse.”

Duchess fumbled with the spoon – “I can’t find it!” she said anxiously.

“There isn’t a patty-pan,” said Ribby, looking perplexed.

“Yes, indeed, my dear Ribby; where can it have gone to?” said Duchess.

“There most certainly is not one, my dear Duchess. I disapprove of tin articles in puddings and pies. It is most undesirable – (especially when people swallow in lumps!)” she added in a lower voice.

Duchess looked very much alarmed, and continued to scoop the inside of the pie-dish.

“My Great-aunt Squintina (grand-mother of Cousin Tabitha Twitchit) – died of a thimble in a Christmas plum-pudding. I never put any article of metal in my puddings or pies.”

Duchess looked aghast, and tilted up the pie-dish.

“I have only four patty-pans, and they are all in the cupboard.”

Duchess set up a howl.

“I shall die! I shall die! I have swallowed a patty-pan! Oh, my dear Ribby, I do feel so ill!”

“It is impossible, my dear Duchess; there was not a patty-pan.”

Duchess moaned and whined and rocked herself about.

“Oh I feel so dreadful, I have swallowed a patty-pan!”

“There was nothing in the pie,” said Ribby severely.

“Yes there was, my dear Ribby, I am sure I have swallowed it!”

“Let me prop you up with a pillow, my dear Duchess; where do you think you feel it?”

“Oh I do feel so ill all over me, my dear Ribby; I have swallowed a large tin patty-pan with a sharp scalloped edge!”

“Shall I run for the doctor? I will just lock up the spoons!”

“Oh yes, yes! fetch Dr. Maggotty, my dear Ribby; he is a Pie himself, he will certainly understand.”

Ribby settled Duchess in an armchair before the fire, and went out and hurried to the village to look for the doctor.

DR. MAGGOTTY’S MIXTURE

She found him at the smithy.

He was occupied in putting rusty nails into a bottle of ink, which he had obtained at the post office.

“Gammon? ha! HA!” said he, with his head on one side.

Ribby explained that her guest had swallowed a patty-pan.

“Spinach? ha! HA!” said he, and accompanied her with alacrity.

He hopped so fast that Ribby had to run. It was most conspicuous. All the village could see that Ribby was fetching the doctor.

“I knew they would over-eat themselves!” said Cousin Tabitha Twitchit.

But while Ribby had been hunting for the doctor – a curious thing had happened to Duchess, who had been left by herself, sitting before the fire, sighing and groaning and feeling very unhappy.

“How could I have swallowed it! such a large thing as a patty-pan!”

She got up and went to the table, and felt inside the pie-dish again with a spoon.

“No; there is no patty-pan, and I put one in; and nobody has eaten pie except me, so I must have swallowed it!”

She sat down again, and stared mournfully at the grate. The fire crackled and danced, and something sizz-z-zled!

Duchess started! She opened the door of the top oven; out came a rich steamy flavour of veal and ham, and there stood a fine brown pie – and through a hole in the top of the pie-crust there was a glimpse of a little tin patty-pan!

Duchess drew a long breath —

“Then I must have been eating MOUSE!… No wonder I feel ill… But perhaps I should feel worse if I had really swallowed a patty-pan!” Duchess reflected – “What a very awkward thing to have to explain to Ribby! I think I will put my pie in the back-yard and say nothing about it. When I go home, I will run round and take it away.”

She put it outside the back door, and sat down again by the fire, and shut her eyes; when Ribby arrived with the doctor, she seemed fast asleep.

“Gammon, ha, HA?” said the doctor.

“I am feeling very much better,” said Duchess, waking up with a jump.

“I am truly glad to hear it! He has brought you a pill, my dear Duchess!”

“I think I should feel quite well if he only felt my pulse,” said Duchess, backing away from the magpie, who sidled up with something in his beak.

“It is only a bread-pill, you had much better take it; drink a little milk, my dear Duchess!”

“Gammon? Gammon?” said the doctor, while Duchess coughed and choked.

“Don’t say that again!” said Ribby, losing her temper – “Here, take this bread and jam, and get out into the yard!”

“Gammon and Spinach! ha ha HA!” shouted Dr. Maggotty triumphantly outside the back door…

“I am feeling very much better, my dear Ribby,” said Duchess. “Do you not think that I had better go home before it gets dark?”

“Perhaps it might be wise, my dear Duchess. I will lend you a nice warm shawl, and you shall take my arm.”

“I would not trouble you for worlds; I feel wonderfully better. One pill of Dr. Maggotty —”

“Indeed it is most admirable, if it has cured you of a patty-pan! I will call directly after breakfast to ask how you have slept.”

Ribby and Duchess said goodbye affectionately, and Duchess started home. Half-way up the lane she stopped and looked back; Ribby had gone in and shut her door. Duchess slipped through the fence, and ran round to the back of Ribby’s house and peeped into the yard.

Upon the roof of the pig-stye sat Dr. Maggotty and three jackdaws. The jackdaws were eating pie-crust, and the magpie was drinking gravy out of a patty-pan.

“Gammon, ha, HA!” he shouted when he saw Duchess’s little black nose peeping round the corner.

Duchess ran home feeling uncommonly silly!