“Oh no,” said the young lady suddenly. Please
don’t! You see, I’m seeing things! I’m seeing things I
never saw before! I mean I must be dreaming!”
“Pinch yourself and find out!” said Henry.
“Oh no!” said the young lady. Then I might wake up.
And I wouldn’t want to miss this dream! It’s the most
wonderful dream I ever had!“
“Why?” said Henry.
“Well, because I’m dreaming of a talking pickle.
And not only that, but it’s the nicest pickle anybody ever
dreamed of. . . I mean talked to. . . I mean dreamed they
were talking to.”
And the young lady burst out laughing.
“See!” she said. “That’s the first time I’ve laughed
in weeks.” And she wiped her eyes and smiled happily at
Henry.
Henry felt very odd. He decided not to tell the
young lady that she wasn’t dreaming after all. Instead he
asked again, “Do you travel very much?”
The young lady looked sad again. “Yes,” she said.
“That’s the trouble. I’m a long way from home and I’m
so homesick.” And fresh tears came to her eyes.
“Just a minute,” said Henry. “Don’t cry!” And he
reached into his pickle pack and found some Poetry.
“Just a minute,” he said, and plopped down to the
ground, and started to recite:
POEM
If you ever roam
HENRY
THE
PICKLE
52
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