Jack Frost visited Farmer Crane’s field one night, and the next morning the gold of the pumpkins shone more brilliantly than ever through their silver coverings.

“It is of no use,” said one large pumpkin to another lying beside it. “It is of no use. I was never made to be cut up for pumpkin pies. I feel I was put here for something higher.”

“Why, what do you mean?” said the other. “You never seemed dissatisfied before. You quite take my breath away.”

“Well, to tell the truth, I do not like the thought of being cut up and served on a table like an ordinary pumpkin. See how large I am, and what a glorious colour. Tell me, did you ever see a pumpkin more beautiful?”

“You are beautiful, indeed, but I never thought of being made for anything but pies. Do tell me of what other use can one be?”