Peter said he’d picked a peck for me. He passed me a box of peppers and planted a quick, dry kiss on my cheek. I smiled, till I saw him peck Mary and each of her pretty maids, too. My pal, Simon, said we should punish Peter for his pecking.
The next day, Simon and I proceeded the fair to peddle Peter’s peppers. On the way, we passed a face familiar to us both.
The Pieman smiled down at Simon, trading a penny and a piping hot pastry for a pint of pilfered peppers. Pleased with the produce, the Pieman was primed for another purchase. He turned to me and asked, “Little Lucy Locket, what’s that in your pocket?”
The Pieman paled as I pulled the package from my apron and said, “Only the very best from Piper’s Pepper Pastures. Can I interest you a pint of pickled Peter?”