“A pumpkin that size would cost a lot at the market,” Mrs. Quimby remarked. “A couple of dollars, at least.”

“Let’s give it eyebrows like last year,” said Ramona.

“And ears,” said Beezus.

“And lots of teeth,” added Ramona. There would be no jack-o’-lantern with one tooth and three triangles for eyes and nose in the Quimbys’ front window on Halloween. Mr. Quimby was the best pumpkin carver on Klickitat Street. Everybody knew that.

“Hmm. Let’s see now.” Mr. Quimby studied the pumpkin, turning it to find the best side for the face. “I think the nose should go about here. With a pencil he sketched a nose-shaped nose, not a triangle, while his daughters leaned on their elbows to watch.

“Shall we have it smile or frown?” he asked.

“Smile!” said Ramona, who had had enough of frowning.

“Frown!” said Beezus.

The mouth turned up on one side and down on the other. Eyes were sketched and eyebrows. “Very expressive,” said Mr. Quimby. “Something between a leer and a sneer.” He cut a circle around the top of the pumpkin and lifted it off for a lid.

Without being asked, Ramona found a big spoon for scooping out the seeds.

Picky-picky came into the kitchen to see if something beside Puss-puddy had been placed in his dish. When he found that it had not, he paused, sniffed the unfamiliar pumpkin smell, and with his tail twitching angrily stalked out of the kitchen. Ramona was glad Beezus did not notice.

“If we don’t let the candle burn the jack-o’-lantern, we can have pumpkin pie,” said Mrs. Quimby. “I can even freeze some of the pumpkin for Thanksgiving.”

Mr. Quimby began to whistle as he carved with skill and care, first a mouthful of teeth, each one neat and square, then eyes and jagged, ferocious eyebrows. He was working on two ears shaped like question marks, when Mrs. Quimby said, “Bedtime, Ramona.”

“I am going to stay up until Daddy finishes,” Ramona informed her family. “No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Run along and take your bath,” said Mrs. Quimby, “and you can watch awhile longer.”

Because her family was happy once more, Ramona did not protest. She returned quickly, however, still damp under her pajamas, to see what her father had thought of next. Hair, that’s what he had thought of, something he could carve because the pumpkin was so big. He cut a few C-shaped curls around the hole in the top of the pumpkin before he reached inside and hollowed out a candle holder in the bottom.

“There,” he said and rinsed his jackknife under the kitchen faucet. “A work of art.”

Mrs. Quimby found a candle stub, inserted it in the pumpkin, lit it, and set the lid in place. Ramona switched off the light. The jack-o’-lantern leered and sneered with a flickering flame.