- end_line
- 139
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.023Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 128
- text
- somehow, about that time, all round the world, these kings, they had
the casting vote, and voted for themselves.
No sooner was ground broken, than all the neighborhood, neighbor Dives,
in particular, broke, too—into a laugh. Piazza to the north! Winter
piazza! Wants, of winter midnights, to watch the Aurora Borealis, I
suppose; hope he’s laid in good store of Polar muffs and mittens.
That was in the lion month of March. Not forgotten are the blue noses
of the carpenters, and how they scouted at the greenness of the cit,
who would build his sole piazza to the north. But March don’t last
forever; patience, and August comes. And then, in the cool elysium of
- title
- Chunk 3