The Pickle Jam Switcheroo at the County Fair
Dot Abernathy had spent the whole summer perfecting her strawberry jam, and Hobart Quill had spent it perfecting his dill pickles. On the morning of the county fair, both of them carried a single jar to the judges' table and set it down beside a neatly printed label.
What neither of them noticed was a sudden gust of wind. It swept across the table and flipped the labels over. Then it dropped them back in the wrong places. The jar of jam now announced DILL PICKLES, while the jar of pickles proudly proclaimed STRAWBERRY JAM.
The head judge, a very serious woman named Mrs. Flinch, wore a crisp white apron and carried a silver spoon. She read the label on the first jar and spread some on a cracker. Then she took a dignified bite. Her eyebrows rose, and they kept rising until they nearly escaped her forehead. "This is the sweetest pickle I have ever tasted," she said slowly, "and it has no crunch at all."
The second judge opened the other jar, speared a long green slice, and chewed with growing alarm. "This is the crunchiest jam in the entire county," he gasped, "and it tastes like a salty swimming pool."
When Dot and Hobart finally understood the problem, they dashed over to explain. The judges listened, chuckled, and returned the labels to their proper jars. By then, however, a small crowd had gathered, and a boy near the front suggested, "Why not try the jam and the pickle together?"
Mrs. Flinch hesitated, then balanced a pickle slice on a jam-covered cracker and took a cautious bite. The crowd leaned closer. She chewed, swallowed, and murmured, "Well, I never." The surprising snack earned a special ribbon, and the line for it stretched all the way to the Ferris wheel.