branches, and on others tiny little lunch-boxes that were as yet quite
green, and evidently not fit to eat until they had grown bigger.

The leaves of this tree were all paper napkins, and it presented a
very pleasing appearance to the hungry little girl.

But the tree next to the lunch-box tree was even more wonderful, for
it bore quantities of tin dinner-pails, which were so full and heavy
that the stout branches bent underneath their weight. Some were small
and dark-brown in color; those larger were of a dull tin color; but
the really ripe ones were pails of bright tin that shone and glistened
beautifully in the rays of sunshine that touched them.

Dorothy was delighted, and even the yellow hen acknowledged that she
was surprised.

The little girl stood on tip-toe and picked one of the nicest and
biggest lunch-boxes, and then she sat down upon the ground and eagerly
opened it. Inside she found, nicely wrapped in white papers, a ham
sandwich, a piece of sponge-cake, a pickle, a slice of new cheese and
an apple. Each thing had a separate stem, and so had to be picked off
the side of the box; but Dorothy found them all to be delicious, and
she ate every bit of luncheon in the box before she had finished.

"A lunch isn't zactly breakfast," she said to Billina, who sat beside
her curiously watching. "But when one is hungry one can eat even
supper in the morning, and not complain."

"I hope your lunch-box was perfectly ripe," observed the yellow hen,
in a anxious tone. "So much sickness is caused by eating green things."