The rain passed over, and each one of the group
convereged at the top of the hill
with the pumpkin on top, smelling like soup
which was making them green at the gills

Each one looked around, and was thus introduced
to the new members and friends
even though they were wary of the dragon (but who
wouldn't be, if they had any sense?)

Percival Pink turned a bit red at the cheeks
when somebody mentioned his name,
and the Painter looked thoughtfully mind and meek
as he pondered his future of fame.

"At last we arrive!" the Pickler did cry
as he reached the top of the hill
and brushing a tear at the edge of his eye
he called for his men to be still

"At last we arrive! I'll say it once more,
for here is the place we have sought;
at last we arrive! I'm perfectly sure
that here's where the map has us brought."

The Pickler's job was once in a place
where he pickled his pickles all day
till a map fluttered down and flapped in his face,
and did take his poor breath all away.