"Chocolate drops!" murmured Sam. "Yum! yum!"
"There are salted almonds in this one," went on Spud, opening an imitation of a sweet potato. "And here are stuffed dates, and this had raisins in it—and here are soft gum drops! Say, Max, this is certainly great! How did you happen to think of it?" And Spud looked tremendously pleased.
"Oh, I know you lof potatoes," answered the German-American youth, innocently.
The candy was placed on one of the wooden plates, and the almonds and raisins on another, and then the good things were passed around.
"I'll keep these as souvenirs of the occasion," said Spud, indicating the imitation potatoes.
"How about it, Songbird, can't you rise to the occasion?" asked Dick, who had noticed that the student-poet had been unusually quiet while eating his cake and ice-cream.
"I have—er—just composed a little poem in honor of Max's birthday," answered Songbird. "If you'd like me to recite"
"Sure thing!"
"Turn on the poetry spigot, Songbird, and let her flow!"
"This is not yet finished. But,—but"
