Random poeticizing about a very palpable pig. The loose-shoelace narrator (who wafts in on an ode to the ""black-feathered bird of winter. . . the blossom-feathered bird of spring"") spies a pig looking at him in a puddle on the street, catches him and takes him home, where Macaroni (after his tail) makes himself comfortable in the muddy corner of the garden. (Mom and Dad suggest looking for the owner, then drop the subject.) Boy imagines (in rhyme) what pig is thinking, dreams about pig and imagines what pig is dreaming, makes up a rhyme about spring with pig. Although he inveigles Macaroni into playing occasionally, he's not certain the pig wouldn't be happier in a farm pen -- but Macaroni leaves the other pigs and runs to his friend. To look at Macaroni is a charmer; but the story is implausible, awkward (and embarrassing) to read aloud, and too meandering to listen to.