It was high noon before, satisfied to repletion, they leaned back against the big Rock and viewed apathetically the scattered remains of the feast. The remains weren’t many, however. A five mile walk on a crisp October morning is calculated to produce a very gluttonish appetite, and even the twins had surpassed themselves. Tad, watching them alarmedly, had feared that they would become ‘bored!’  
“Someone,” he murmured sleepily, “ought to clear up that mess. You’re nearest to it, Rod.”
 
“Lazy duffer!” murmured Rod, depositing with an effort a crumpled wad of napkin and a banana peel in one of the cracker boxes and then subsiding again.
 
“Don’t overtax your strength,” warned Tad. The twins giggled. Kitty, alone of the five, seemed unaffected by the general lassitude. He[200] sat erect and blinked solemnly at the autumn world as though planning new feats of pedestrianism. Rodney, watching him lazily, expected any moment to see him jump up and stride off toward the horizon. Presently Tad, who had apparently gone to sleep, broke the silence.
 
“There was a young fellow named Tad,
A worthy and excellent lad,
He went off with a bunch
And ate too much lunch,
And the fate of that Tad lad was sad.”
Matty sat up and clapped her hands. “Let’s all do it! Let’s all make limericks. You make the next one, Rod.”
 
“Too full for utterance,” muttered Rodney.
 
“Please try. Then Phineas will and——”
 
There was a choking gurgle from Tad. Matty observed him inquiringly. “Nothing,” he murmured. “I—I was just laughing at something funny.”
 
“Now,” continued Matty, wrinkling her forehead, “we’ll be very quiet while everyone composes.”
 
“I,” remarked Tad, “shall compose myself to slumber.”
 
[201]
 
“Here’s mine,” announced Rodney. “There was——”
 
“Oh, wait a minute,” exclaimed May. “Let’s give a prize for the best one! Shall we?”
 
“What’s the prize?” asked Tad. May looked about in search of it.
 
“Banana skin,” suggested Rodney.
 
“No, a beautiful silver cup,” replied May, “engraved with the winner’s name.”
 
“Where do we get the cup?”
 
“Right here.” May picked up one of the tin cups and flourished it.
 
“How beautiful!” murmured Tad, seeking a more comfortable position for his head. “I’ll take it now, please.”
 
“Indeed you won’t!” said Matty. “You wait until we’ve said our verses. Now go ahead, Rod, please.”
 
“I guess I’ve forgotten it now,” replied Rodney, wrinkling his brow. “No, I haven’t. Here it is:
 
“There was a young fellow named Mudge
Who tried up a steep hill to trudge,
He fell on his back
With a horrible crack,
And was heard to exclaim, ‘Oh fudge!’”
[202]
 
The twins clapped loudly, but Tad said it was a perfectly rotten limerick.
 
“Better than yours, though,” laughed Rodney.
 
“Nothing of the sort! Mine was an exceptionally fine example of the art of—ah—composition. Mine had—had poetic qualities. Hand over the prize, if you please!”
 
“I’ve got one,” announced Kitty somberly. “It isn’t very good, though.” He blinked about the circle, and Matty murmured that she was sure it would be a very nice one indeed.
 
“There was a boy named Merrill
Who climbed up a rock like a squirrel——”
Kitty paused there, whether to receive applause for the ingenuity of the rhyme or to grope for the rest of the verse they didn’t know. The twins, however, encouraged him with expressions of delight, and after a moment he continued:
 
“And when he was on top
Of the very big rock
He shouted aloud in his peril!”
[203]
 
Kitty finished with a flourish and beamed self-approval. The applause was deafening. Tad said it was magnificent.
 
“Now it’s up to you girls,” said Rodney.
 
“I’m ready,” replied May. “Are you, Matty?”
 
“Yes, but you go ahead, May.”
 
“Well.” May took a long breath, fixed her eyes on the edge of the horizon and began:
 
“There was a young lady named Matty
Who left home looking very natty——”
“May Binner!” interrupted the subject of her poetic effusion, “if you use ‘fatty’ I—I’ll——”
 
“Not going to,” replied May triumphantly.
 
“But when she got back
She had torn her new sack,
And her mother said, ‘My, you look ratty!’”
“Clever but inelegant,” remarked Tad.
 
“I don’t think ‘ratty’ is a very nice word to use,” objected Matty. “Besides, I don’t wear a sack!”
 
“That’s just a metaphor,” returned May serenely. “I couldn’t very well make ‘dress’ rhyme with ‘back,’ could I?”
 
[204]
 
“It’s a perfectly good limerick,” laughed Rodney. “And I think it’s the best yet.”
 
“Wait!” cried Matty. “I’ve got a new one. Listen:
 
“There was a young lady named May,
Who didn’t know just what to say,
So the words of her verse
From bad grew to worse,
And her friends from her side turned away.”
“Too pathetic,” decided Tad. “A limerick should be cheerful, I think. That last line brought tears to my eyes, Matty.” But for some reason Kitty approved enthusiastically of the latest attempt and clapped loudly.
 
“We’ll have to vote to see who gets the prize, I guess,” said Rodney. “Who do you say, Tad?”
 
“It isn’t over yet,” announced Tad, pulling himself to a sitting posture. “I have another one.”
 
“But you’ve had your turn,” protested............