The frog king and the frog queen lived quite happily in, on and under a garden green. For you see, they possessed everything their hearts desired. Centuries of collecting had crammed bowers in the garden and caverns underneath with a dazzling array of items. There were steak knives with handles of purest ash, a wind-up toy in the shape of something horrid, a phantom deck of playing cards, wood shavings gathered while blindfolded, bus tokens from the Crab Nebula, and such and so and much, much more.
“Oh, what will she bring? I can hardly stand to wait,” said the frog queen.
The royal pair sat on a bench in the garden waiting for a sorceress. The welcome lamp was lit.
“She’ll bring what she’ll bring, my dear, something sure to add to our collection,” said the frog king.
And then, fraff, the sorceress appeared in all her red satin sorceric splendor. She held a small something in her outstretched hand. She smiled her craftiest smile, the one that deepened the dimples in her cheeks and crinkled the outermost corners of her merry blue eyes.
The frog king and the frog queen gasped.
“Can it be?” they said in unison.
The sorceress nodded yes and placed the cameo brooch with the image of Martha Washington into their grasping froggy fingers.