Monday, December 1, 2014


By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Grampa in Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Phildelphia Public Ledger, November 17, 1918.

Once upon a time the little people in the woods decide to go to war. They had been reading the papers that the two-legged folk left about when they came picnicking, and, as Grandfather Rabbit explained, “It was the thing to do!”

“But whom shall we fight?” asked little Tommy Squirrel. “You can’t have a war without an enemy!”

This puzzled old man Rabbit for a long time, but he never let on. “That comes later. Didn’t George Washington himself say, ‘In times of peace prepare for war’?” he announced sternly.

“This’ll bring us into trouble,” Johnny Owl closed one eye and shook his head backward and forward. “We have nothing to do with the ways of men!”

But old Grandfather Rabbit stood on a tree stump and talked so long and loudly about the glories of battle that no one listened to Johnny Owl, and they were all for war at the earliest possible moment.

“The first thing to do is to choose a general!” he concluded, “and, as this war was my idea, I think I ought to be it!”

Loud cheers greeted this modest remark, and Tommy Squirrel jumped up and made a fervent speech unanimously electing Jonathan T. Rabbit as commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of Good-Wood Fellows.

“With such a brave soul at our head victory is already assured!” he shouted, waving his paws as he had seen the pictured human creatures in the newspapers do.

Jonathan swelled out his chest and looked off between the trees, then all at once something occurred to him.

Tommy was launching into another patriotic outburst when old man Rabbit touched him gently on the arm.

“Not at the head,” he whispered earnestly, “change it to tail. That’s old stuff having generals at the head. Nowadays they do it the other way.”

“With this brave soul at our tail,” Tommy corrected hastily, “who will dare to face us!”

Jonathan smiled in a pleased fashion and closed his eyes as Tommy proceeded with his speech.

Several others of the company did the same, but they all woke up at the end, clapped loudly and war was declared on the spot.

Next day training began in earnest. All the little rabbits were set to digging trenches all the way around that particular little wood.

Jonathan had some good ideas, you must admit, and sitting upon his tree stump with a quill behind his ear directed the whole proceeding.

The Squirrels were all decorated with maple leaves and dubbed majors in the observation corps.

They scanned the country for signs of the enemy from their treetops and reported every few minutes to General Jonathan.

All the birds who had not flown South at once enlisted in the aviation section; even Johnny Owl agreed, with his family, to attend to the night watch.

The Woodpeckers being expert drillers were all made drill masters, and all the Rabbits who refused to dig trenches were placed in the signal corps.

You have no idea how convenient long ears are for wigwagging, and Jonathan worked out the most satisfactory code.

The Tortoises being armored, were immediately impressed into the infantry, and, as they were more protected behind than before, Jonathan insisted upon their marching backward. It was a little awkward at first, but they persevered and soon got the hang of it.

The Skunks were, of course, placed in the gas division; the Porcupines in the artillery, and with a satisfied sigh General Jonathan declared his army in readiness.

They were so delighted, all the little wood soldiers, that they forgot all about not having any enemy.

And bless my heart and heels! One night about 5 o’clock the enemy came, sure enough – three of him.

The majors in the observation corps sighted him first and chattered the news from tree to tree till it reached old General Jonathan Rabbit, who immediately wigwagged the news to all the rest of the army.

The tortoise infantry fell in backward, the gas corps went at the very head and after them, bristling with bravery, came the Porcupine artillery, and last of all, peering cautiously to the left and the right, the commander-in-chief himself.

Overhead the aviation circled making such a to-do that the enemy looked up and before he could save himself had tumbled headlong into the trenches.

There really were three – but in a war you always speak of the enemy as him. You understand?

Before he could pick himself up the gas division got busy. Ugh! Then the artillery let fly and the tortoises advanced backward.

It wasn’t much of a battle, ‘cause the enemy was so choked and taken aback that he retreated faster than the army could advance.

General Jonathan got out of breath, so he called halt, and they did.

It was a glorious victory, and that’s a fact, and those three robber foxes never did come back. It took them a whole hour to pull the porcupine quills out o’ their hides, and they’re still feeling the effects of the poison gas!


THE FORGETFUL POET The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, April 11, 1920.

The Puzzle Corner

I guess the Forgetful Poet has returned, for these riddles came in this week:

The men who at all times -----
Their equanimity deserve
The ----- of toil, they’ve done their part.
But woe to them whose speech is -----,
Who scowl and scold, complain and grumble,
All life for them will be a -----.

I took ----- ----- for a ride
Upon a ----- bald steed,
It shook her to a -----
And she’s very cross indeed.

He evidently is saying it with desserts this week and as you are all fond of them I know it will not be long before every blank is filled in. Besides, he wants to know:

Did you ever hear a fence rail,
Or ever see one paling,
Were you ever at a goat tea,
Did you see a bee bewailing?
(I never did.)

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2014 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Saturday, November 1, 2014


By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, John Dough and the Cherub, The Treasure of Karnak, and The Visitors from Oz, etc.

From the script for Ozma of Oz: A Musical Extravaganza in Two Acts, 1909. Previously unpublished.

Duet for Shaggy Man and Tiktok with Pirate Fleet Chorus.

When Captain Kidd was but a lad
He was a lively kid;
He licked the teacher
Robbed the preacher
Of two quid—
--he did! he did!
He wouldn’t mind his ma at all.
On Sunday he played tag and ball,
The other boys he’d fight and maul
Did Captain Kidd—
--he did!

Oh, Captain, Captain Kidd
What made you act so bad?
It’s lucky shofers wern’t [sic] invented
When you were a lad!

When Captain Kidd was but a youth
He ran away and hid;
He swore and drank and
Robbed a bank and
Then he slid—
--he did! he did!
He headed for the Spanish Main
And many shackles did he gain
And slaughtered men till they were slain
Did Captain Kidd—
--he did!

Oh, Captain, Captain Kidd!
You were a reckless youth!
And much we fear a buccaneer
You had become, in truth!

(ENTER: CHORUS with papier-mache ships around waist, legs concealed by sea-cloth, as indicated. Upper part dressed as Pirates, with fierce whiskers, swords and pistols. During Chorus and Dance they discharge some of the guns and some ships are wrecked.)

When Captain Kidd became a man
For piracy he bid;
Sold bonds and stocks and
Took the rocks to
Old Madrid—
--he did! he did!
He worked the life insurance graft,
And politics and arts-and-craft,
He drove his countless victims daft
Did Captain Kidd—
--he did!

Oh, Captain, Captain Kidd!
What dreadful deeds you’d do.
If Standard Oil was in your toil
You’d bust the trust for true!

THE FORGETFUL POET The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, April 4, 1920.

Puzzle Corner

I had this short note from our old friend the Forgetful Poet this week:

    Dear Miss Thompson—I am taking
    A little rest—a spring vacashing!
    The riddle box inside my head
    Is empty. Here’s my love instead!
        Faithfully and forgetfully,


His poem last week needed a little doctoring. He said sacknap, but meant knapsack. He also meant to sit upon a rock and throw his line into the stream. He mixed hook up with fish in the next verse and tea with fish in the last, and left out the word bait.

Copyright © 2014 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Sunday, June 1, 2014


By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Grampa in Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Phildelphia Public Ledger, August 10, 1919.

One bright morning Oliver Elephant was playing croquet with Tommy Tapir. Oliver's trunk made an ideal mallet and he was sending his ball through the wicket two at a time. Tommy Tapir panted after him anxiously, but there was no doubt at all of the big little elephant's winning.

"There," chuckled Oliver, “one more stroke and I'll be out!”

But you never can tell. Behind a tree Arthur Ostrich had ben hungrily watching the game. He never had got over his taste for croquet balls. It fairly made his mouth water to see them rolling on the green. But Oliver was bigger than he was, so for a long time he resisted the temptation of gobbling up a ball or two and running away. Then Oliver's ball rolled almost under his nose. It had just missed the stake.

Oliver turned to watch Tommy Tapir play, then out popped Arthur Ostrich's head. One gulp and a hard swallow and Oliver's ball was lodged half way down his long neck. He was just about to run away, when Tommy Tapir saw him. Throwing down his mallet with a loud scream he rushed at Arthur, Oliver close behind him. Arthur Ostrich tried to swallow, but fright made his throat dry and that ball wouldn't budge. He took two long leaps, but Oliver came thumping after him madder than a nest of hornets and tripped him up with his trunk.

"You put my ball right back!" he trumpeted, while Tommy Tapir began pulling feather after feather out of Arthur Ostrich's tail.

"Help!" shrieked the bad, big little ostrich. Well, dears and ducks, they make such a rumpus that Oliver's Uncle Abner Elephant threw down the Jungle News and came a running.

"Stop! Stop!" he called at the top of his trunk. But Oliver was pushing Arthur Ostrich right up to the stake and before Uncle Abner could interfere he had bumped that swallowed croquet ball against the post.

"There," he wheezed breathlessly. "I beat anyhow!"

"This is disgraceful!" spluttered Uncle Abner, pulling Oliver off by the suspenders and rolling Tommy Tapir into the dust.

"What's the matter anyhow?"

"He ate my ball!" wailed Oliver. One glance convinced Uncle Abner of the truth of this statement.

"They pulled out my best plumes!" sobbed Arthur Ostrich, at the same time swallowing the croquet ball.

"Then you're all about even, I judge," laughed Uncle Abner. "Isn't that right?"

"You beat," conceded Tommy Tapir generously, at which Oliver, not to be outdone, generously decided to forgive Arthur Ostrich. Uncle Abner gave the injured bird an old pipe and after eating it with great relish Arthur agreed to make up, too.

For, as Uncle Abner said, an elephant and an ostrich surely ought to get along. And when the asked him why he just laughed all inside of himself and said, " 'Cause elephants have such long trunks and ostriches such long necks." What do you think of that? (Perhaps this story is long enough.) All right, I'll stop. But Oliver's mother had a gorgeous ostrich-plume bonnet, mind that.

THE FORGETFUL POET The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 28, 1920.

The Puzzle Corner

The Forgetful Poet said quite a bit with metals last week, but nearly every one guessed them, and the right ones were: Tin, lead, steel, bronze, brass and silver.

And now, before he bursts into another poem, he wants to know what letter of the alphabet and figure below ten will describe a bowwow? And, why need a man who has an ax never go hungry?

A Fishing Poem

With rod and sackknap on my back
A fishing I will go –
I'll sit upon a stream – my line
Into the rock I'll throw!

And there I'll sit until a hook
Comes biting at my fish.
Besides, I'll take along
An umbrella and a book!

My! Won't the tea taste fine for fish.
Why, I can hardly wait.
I'll run into the garden now
And dig a can of -----.

It seems to me that some of the words in this poem are out of place. How does it seem to you?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2014 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Thursday, May 1, 2014


By John R. Neill
Illustrator of most of the Oz books, and author of The Runaway in Oz, The Wonder City of Oz, Lucky Bucky in Oz, etc.

Originally published in The Housewife, May 1916.

Of course, you have gathered the soft pink and white flowers that grow in May, and some with spots of red and stripes of gold.

The Flower Fairies work hard

When you gather them again, look very carefully into their faces and remember how hard the fairies have worked to get the colors right; for before you gather them, those little creatures have worked from early morning with brush and scissors, planning and clipping and cutting. Sometimes they use yellow and pink powders, pearls and diamonds soft silks stretched over laces, all sewed carefully around the edges.

The Flower Fairies sing with the birds

Those flower fairies sing and dance all day with the birds, and their work is almost play to them.

One very old fairy man, whose business it is to chase away the worms and hard-headed beetles, usually sits on a rock at the edge of the woods. He gives the alarm when the children are coming, and always seems sullen and quiet. Some say he is very disagreeable, and when no other fairy is around to see him, he has been known to poke his cane right through some of the prettiest flowers.

One very old Fairy Man

You can at times see very small holes in the flowers. These you will know he has made. But he does not do it often, only when he is feeling out of sorts.

When all the brushes of the fairies are broken, the birds will give them a feather or two from which they make new brushes in no time.

All their days go quickly and happily, and at night each fairy climbs into the flower she likes the best, and the petals close themselves like shutters, holding their little passengers lightly and comfortably swinging until morning.

Each Fairy Climbs into the Flower

And wherever a fairy has slept, that flower has the fragrance of its fairy which always stays, and that is all we really know of these wonderful little people.

THE FORGETFUL POET The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 21, 1920.

The Puzzle Corner

The story the Forgetful Poet told last week with the fruit took a good many and the missing ones were: Lime, dates, currant, apple, fig, pear and plum. This week he is determined to say it with metals. This might be hard for some folks – but not for him. See, now, what you can make out of his story. Fill in the blanks with the names of metals.

Let our story begin
With a soldier of -----
Who ----- his brave army
Through thick and through thin!

A march he did -----
On the enemy forces
And captured six men
And a few rusty horses.

As the -----ed heroes pass
All the ----- bands did play
And ----- tongued orators
Talked half the day!

[Answers next time.]


Copyright © 2014 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014


By Ruth Plumly Thompson
Author of Grampa in Oz, Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz, The Wish Express, "King, King! Double King!" etc.

Originally published in the Phildelphia Public Ledger, March 27, 1921.

Down under the brown earth, in gardens where the cold never penetrates, live the fairies. Yes, there they live and are happy as the days are long. Yesterday, as they all lay curled up I the hearts of the flowers, a shrill whistle sounded and, like so many jack-in-the-boxes, out popped heads from every flower.

No wonder! Right o the heels of that whistle skipped the fairy postman, the dearest sort of a little fellow, all dressed in brown, with shimmery blue wings. Over his shoulder hung a huge bell like a flower, just overflowing with dainty pink, blue and green letters. Most delightful letters, girls and boys, written with dew on flower petals and cunningly sealed with honey. The next time you see a crumpled flower leaf you'll know it's a fairy letter and perhaps--oh, a very perhaps!--you may read it.

The postman waited till the fairies had settled down cozily to read their mail, then the little rascal blew such a sharp blast on his silver whistle that the whole company nearly tumbles from their flowers.

"Listen!" cried the mischievous sprite when they had in a measure recovered, "there is a great, bug, stiff letter lying against the post-office 'cause it's too big to go inside. I don't know who it's for and I don't know whom it's from, but who will help me carry it to the queen?"

"I! I! I!" cried all the fairies together. Mercies! What curious creatures these fairies are!

"Come on, then!" cried the postman. And, half skipping and half flying, the whole company trooped after him. When they reached the postoffice--a giant jack-in-the-pulpit--there stood the monster letter. Truly an enormous letter, just about the size you or I might write. But think how tiny fairies are!

"Come," laughed the postman, "let's carry it to the queen!"

With a great fluttering of wings the little gentlemen fairies seized the edges of the letter first inviting some of the little lady fairies to ride. Then away they flew gayly to the great fragrant rose, where the queen lay napping. But the fluttering of wings wakened her, and when she saw the giant letter she was as curious as the rest.

"Open it! Open it!" she cried, rosy with excitement. And an obliging young woodpecker, who had heard the queen's request, flew down and slit it open with his long bill.

Then with great difficulty the letter was dragged from the envelope and two fairy guards stationed upon the edges to keep it from blowing away.

"Read it! Read it!" cried the whole company, hopping up and down with excitement. The court scribe stepped forward and peered knowingly at the writing.

"Ahem," began the scribe I some embarrassment, "er--really, your majesty, I can make nothing of it!" And, really, boys and girls, I don't see how he could, for this writing was so fearfully large! Why, one letter alone was as big as a fairy!

"The wise men! How about the wise men?" called one of the court ladies, and a dozen ran off to fetch them straightaway or some way. The wise men were studying the skies through a monster telescope for signs of fairies on Mars and were not pleased at the interruption, so they came grumbling and growling, and one not wishing to lose any time brought the telescope along, pausing every few minutes to squint through it at the sky. The queen was provoked by their slowness in obeying her commands.

"Here!" she cried imperiously to the old fellow lagging behind, "read this letter at once or you shall be stung by the fiercest bumble bee in the kingdom!"

This so startled the old wise man that the telescope turned a complete somersault. He caught it nervously and without noticing that it was upside down pointed it tremblingly at the huge letter. Then to the amazement of every one he read in a deep though shaky voice:

"The Easter Bunny wishes all of the fairies a very happy Easter, and has left some surprises in the secret tree hollow known to the queen!"

"Oh, oh!" cried the fairies, "isn't it lovely?"

"Let's go for the surprises!" laughed the queen, and gave the old wise man a little hug--she was so pleased. And he, the foxy old dear, pretended that he knew all along that squinting through the wrong end of a telescope was the proper way to read a g =iant letter, and he explained to the other wise men that if looking through tone end make objects large, looking through the other end would make them small.

Well, well! I don't know about that!

THE FORGETFUL POET The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 14, 1920.

The Puzzle Corner

Last week, you will remember, the Forgetful Poet had something to say with vegetables. This time he is going to say it with fruit. The vegetables missing from last week's verses were: Beet, leek, lettuce, cress, turnip and carrot.

A Fruitful Tale

Young John is in the ----- light now,
He has some lecture -----
On ----- history in the east
And in the Balkan states!

But Mistress Ann, who is the
Very ----- of his eye,
Cares not a ----- for history
When Johnny is not nigh.

They'll be a happy ----- I guess
When John comes home again--
He wrote to Mistress Ann, but -----
Forgot to say just when
(He would return).

Fill in the blanks with fruit.

What kind of door's described by war?
There's a cock that doesn't crow,
But has a lot of feathers though?

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2013 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 1, 2014


By L. Frank Baum
Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, John Dough and the Cherub, The Treasure of Karnak, and The Visitors from Oz, etc.

Originally published in The Philosopher, December 1897.

I am valet to his Majesty the Emperor. My family has served the royal household for nearly two centuries, and we regard the record with pardonable pride.

On my breast glitters an order to possess which many a nobleman would willingly forfeit his wealth, and the Great Emperor himself pinned it there!

I won it in this way.

Entering my master's room one morning to arouse him and serve his customary cup of chocolate, I found him in an especially happy mood, and he entertained me with a goodly number of harmless witticisms as I busied myself over his toilet.

While standing near the dressing table, which was covered with a broad cloth whose folds reached the carpet, I observed the drapery move, as though disturbed from beneath the table. The first time I thought it was my fancy, as no draught could penetrate the room, but as again the cloth swayed perceptibly, I walked to the table and raised the cover while I peered beneath.

The sight that met my gaze was so terrible and unexpected that I gave an involuntary cry.

Squatting under the table was a dark, hunched-backed figure, with evil eyes glowing like two coals, and grasping in its hand a long double-edged dirk!

Hearing my exclamation His Majesty asked, "What is it, you rascal?"

To act promptly is one of the attributes of my family. Without replying to the Emperor I quickly reached beneath the table to clutch and draw forth the vile assassin. My hand met with no resistance; the fellow eluded me. Seizing the edge of the table I thrust it violently aside, and at the same time threw myself bodily upon the spot where the intruder must be.

There was no one there, and I sprawled upon the floor full of consternation and cutting so ridiculous a figure that His Majesty lay back and roared in merriment.

"You ass! You idiot!" he gasped, between fits of laughter, "what in God's name are you trying to do?"

But I pass over my master's reproaches, the more readily that they seemed fully deserved. For although I searched every portion of the chamber, the man had positively disappeared. And when I came to reason upon the matter calmly, I saw how impossible it was that any intruder could have gained access to the royal apartments.

Still, the incident impressed me.

One week later the Emperor was playing at quoits in the garden and I stood by to return the rings as he cast them. Finally a quoit, having alighted upon its edge, rolled briskly without the court and stopped at the edge of a cluster of low shrubs.

Stooping over to secure the errant quoit my eyes penetrated the leafy foliage beside it, and I plainly saw concealed therein the figure of the hunch-back, again clasping the murderous-looking knife and scowling as his dark eyes met mine.

A number of the Emperor's body guard stood a few paces away.

Keeping close watch of the bushes and determined that this time the villain should not escape me, I beckoned the soldiers to my side.

In an instant they had surrounded the shrub, while my eyes remained fastened upon the hunch-back. In one brief sentence I explained the position of the assassin, and at my word half a score of pikes were thrust into the bushes.

I own I expected to see them withdrawn reeking with the scoundrel's blood, and my amazement was supreme when the figure of the man vanished before my very eyes, and the pikes met with no resistance whatever!

Again I was forced to endure the ridicule of the courtiers and the soldiery, while my royal master angrily chided me as a visionary fool and intimated that I was fast outgrowing my usefulness.

Another week rolled away and one afternoon I accompanied his Majesty upon his daily ride. On our return to the palace my master dismounted, nodded gaily to the vast throng of subjects that stood by to gaze upon his benignant features, and started to walk up the avenue either side of which was densely lined with people eager for a near view of the Great Emperor.

I was but a step behind him when I saw, a few paces in advance, the mis-shapen form and scowling face of the hunch-back. His right hand was thrust within his bosom, and I knew intuitively that his fingers grasped the double-edged knife.

As we reached the fellow I pressed to the Emperor's side, and at the same instant the hunch-back sprang forward with a bound.

The sharp blade flashed in his uplifted hand, and that moment might have been my master's last. But I had been forewarned. In an instant my hands clutched the villain's throat, and the blow intended for the Emperor penetrated my breast as I bore the assassin to the ground.

He did not leave the spot alive; for, as the Emperor lifted me in his own august arms, a dozen pikes pinned the would-be murderer to the earth.

It is true I was never able afterward to serve my dear master in person, but he sees that my life wants nothing to render it more bright or contented, and if ever I am tempted to deplore my uselessness, one glance at the glittering order upon my breast restores my peace of mind.

I have since decided that the shadow of the calamity which threatened my master was cast before, and twice I was permitted in an occult way, to perceive the murderer, in order that when the event transpired I might preserve for Europe and for Christendom the greatest ruler of my time.

THE FORGETFUL POET The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 7, 1920.

Puzzle Corner

The poem that the Forgetful Poet told with flowers is given below. How many did you get?

Sweet William rose and donned his clothes,
  A coxcomb gay was he.
"I'm very poor and so, alas,
  Must marigold," said he.

Sweet William called on Marguerite.
  She blushed a rosy pink,
And when he aster to be his
  Sat down to sigh and think.
But when he asked her poppy, dears,
  He said it would disgrace him,
And lest he left at four o'clock
  The dogwood surely chase him.

This week he's going to say it with vegetables and I'm sure you'll enjoy supplying the blanks in his verses.

The rain ----- on the housetop
  And the roof began to -----,
So ----- have it mended
  The beginning of the week.

The ----- cent moon shines in the sky
  The time is merry spring,
When a lad is apt to -----
  With an eighteen ----- ring.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2014 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014


The Forgetful Poet 
By Ruth Plumly Thompson 
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, February 29, 1920.
The Puzzle Corner

The cities in last week’s verses were Brest, Nice, Flushing and Adelaide.

Spring is coming. The Forgetful Poet feels it already, and as he has been reading everywhere a line telling folks to “Say it with flowers” he says he thinks he will. Can you read what he has said with flowers?

A Flower Tale

----- ----- ----- and donned his clothes;
A ----- gay was he.
“I’m very poor and so, alas,
Must -----,” said he.
----- ----- called on -----.
She blushed a rosy -----
And when he ----- to be his,
Sat down to sigh and think.
But when he asked her -----, dears,
He said it would disgrace him
And lest he left at -----
The ----- surely chase him.

You’ll have to think over the flower names till you find one that will fit the young gentleman and lady in this rhyme. I’ll tell you that the next to last blank should be filled in by a timely flower.

[Answers next time.]

Copyright © 2015 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.