of a
broken jug, over a stone sidewalk under a slippery elm tree, looks
peculiar and mysterious.

[Illustration: They stepped into the molasses with their bare feet]

Eeta Peeca Pie stepped into the molasses with his bare feet. "It's a
lotta fun," he said. "It tickles all over." So Meeney Miney and Miney
Mo both stepped into the molasses with their bare feet.

Then what happened just happened. One got littler. Another got
littler. All three got littler.

"You look to me only big as a potato bug," said Eeta Peeca Pie to
Meeney Miney and Miney Mo. "It's the same like you look to us," said
Meeney Miney and Miney Mo to Eeta Peeca Pie. And then because their
secret ambition began to hurt them they all stood with hands on each
other's shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song.

Off the sidewalk they strolled, across a field of grass. They passed
many houses of spiders and ants. In front of one house they saw Mrs.
Spider over a tub washing clothes for Mr. Spider.

"Why do you wear that frying pan on your head?" they asked her.

"In this country all ladies wear the frying pan on their head when
they want a hat."

"But what if you want a hat when you are frying with the frying pan?"
asked Eeta Peeca Pie.

"That never happens to any respectable lady in this country."

"Don't you never have no new style hats?" asked Meeney Miney.

"No, but we always have new style frying pans every spring and fall."

Hidden in the roots of a pink grass clump, they came to a city of
twisted-nose spiders. On the main street was a store with a show
window full of pink parasols. They walked in and said to the clerk,
"We want to buy parasols."

"We don't sell parasols here," said the spider clerk.

"Well, lend us a parasol apiece," said all three.

"Gladly, most gladly," said the clerk.

"How do you do it?" asked Eeta.

"I don't have to," answered the spider clerk.

"How did it begin?"

"It never was otherwise."

"Don't you never get tired?"

"Every parasol is a joy."

"What do you do when the parasols are gone?"

"They always come back. These are the famous twisted-nose parasols made
from the famous pink grass. You will lose them all, all three. Then
they will all walk back to me here in this store on main street. I can
not sell you something I know you will surely lose. Neither can I ask
you to pay, for something you will forget, somewhere sometime, and when
you forget it, it will walk back here to me again. Look--look!"