“I have been insulted,” said the onion.
“Tell me what the insult was,” said the carrot.
“Some one was going to help the cook get the dinner—some one who knew little about cooking but less about how to fix vegetables, and this person said she would peel the onions.
“She began to peel me first as though I were a potato and then she kept on peeling until the cook suddenly noticed what she was doing and said:
“‘Stop peeling that poor onion. It’s all good to eat, and we will just cut it up in smaller pieces for frying.’
“Imagine,” said the onion, “to hear of any one so ignorant about onions. That was said before you were brought out, Mr. Carrot. I was insulted! To think of not being understood better than that. Oh, it is sad, it is insulting, not to be understood.”
“Cheer up,” said the carrot. “It is not an insult when a creature is ignorant. You should just feel sorry for ignorance, and feel proud and happy that you were saved in time so you could do your part when the great meeting takes place between you and Mr. Beefsteak to-night at the big dinner.”
“That’s so,” said the onion, “I will cheer up. It has made me feel better to talk to you. I don’t feel insulted any more.”