L. P. Hubbard, A Little Book for A Little Cook (1905)
“ In the noonday sun I throve and grew— Grew on the verge of a sunny crest, Just as fast as I could for Pillsbury's Best. And when I had grown both tall and strong The reapers came—a merry throng— And through the fields they wend their way, Just to and fro through the livelong day. Perhaps they were rude—for they cut me dead— But what if they did?—I kept my head And turned on my back and laughed in glee At the thought of the good, good flour I'd be. ”
