Evanston, Ill. — I'm beginning to drool, my stomach is growling. My brother's impatient, and Tiger is howling. Daddy is finally up from his bed. Annie is barking off her head. John Paul suddenly appears at the door, and Melting snow is purring, down on the floor. Mother is patient; she's on a diet. But if they don't come out soon, we'll have a riot. My mother says just half an hour, And she also just poured in the flour. As the oven door opens, the smells hits the air -- Oh! My gosh! They are lemon sqares!