Mrs. Peter Perkins prepared a pretty purple 
pie from pure pastry flour. She sliced sour 
sapapples and yummy yellow quinces and put 
them in the pretty pie. Then, she stewed 
some purple grapes to give the pretty pie 
color and added sweet sugar for flavor. She 
topped the fresh fruit with better baking 
butter and carefully covered the pretty 
purple pie with flaky pastry crust and 
popped it into the oven. Soon steamy 
savory smells seeped out of the oven. The 
pretty pie was baking to a golden butter 
brown. 

Cosmo, the cat, purring loudly, sniffed 
the savory smells and carefully curled 
her twitchy tail around the table leg. 
Dagmar Dog looked longingly to where the 
steamy savory smells were seeping. 

The precious pussy and puppy waited while 
Mrs. Peter Perkins opened the oven door. 
She placed the pretty purple pie ever so 
carefully on the green window sill to cool. 
Then, she went to work elsewhere. 

The pretty purple pie stopped steaming. The 
steamy savory smells stopped seeping and it 
waited on the window sill to be eaten. Cosmo, 
the cat and Dagmar Dog decided definitely that 
this dreamy delicacy did not belong to pussy 
cats or puppy dogs so they went away. 

Hungry Harry Perkins hurried home from 
school. "A pretty purple pie!" he cried. 
"Made with sliced sour sapapples, yummy 
yellow quinces, grapes for color, and sweet 
sugar for flavor." And-----he ate 
two pieces! Then, he hurried hastily away. 

Slow Sam, the hired hand, wandered wearily 
in from cutting grass. "A pretty purple pie!" 
he slowly said. "Made with sliced sour 
sapapples, yummy yellow quinces, grapes 
for color, and sweet sugar for flavor." 
And----he ate two pieces! Then, he wandered 
wearily outdoors. 

Mr. Peter Perkins perkily perched 
himself on a ladder to fix the kitchen 
window and saw the pie resting on 
the green window sill. "A pretty 
purple pie!' he cried. "Made with 
sour sapapples, yummy yellow quinces, 
grapes for color, and sweet sugar for 
flavor." And-----he ate the last 
two pieces. Then, he unperched himself 
from the ladder and perkily bounced away.
 
There was no pie left when Mrs. Peter 
Perkins came back into her cooking 
kitchen. Only an empty pie pan silently 
sat on the green window sill. She looked 
out of the window and watched three happily 
humming humans. 

Hurrying Harry was busy raking the lawn. 
Slow Sam was whistling while trimming 
the thorny hedge. Mr. Peter Perkins was 
singing simple silly songs while bustling 
in the bushes. Everyone was happy so what 
did Mrs. Peter Perkins do. Why, she smiled 
sweetly. Her pretty purple pie had been a 
pretty purple happy-making pie, and she 
was glad. 

    




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