The Pies
Swift, in passing through the county of Cavan, called at a homely but
hospitable house, where he knew he should be well received. The Lady
Bountiful of the mansion, rejoiced to have so distinguished a guest,
runs up to him, and with great eagerness and flippancy asks him what he
will have for dinner. Will you have an apple-pie, sir? Will you have a
gooseberry-pie, sir? Will you have a cherry-pie, sir? Will you have a
currant-pie, sir? Will you have a plum-pie, sir? Will you have a
pigeon-pie, sir? Any pie, madam, but a magpie.