In perky, gently pulsing rhyme, the old tale of Sir Ribbeck whose sweet pears were generously offered to all who came by. His last request, to counter a miserly heir, is filled by his mourners: they bury a pear by side. The son fences off Sir Ribbeck's tree but the graveside pear takes root and blossoms, ""Until one autumn as of old,/ The tree was rich with pears of gold"" and among the leaves the children hear Sir Ribbeck's inviting refrain: ""Come have a pear! My pears are choice."" Fresh and resonant woodcuts add to the happy flavor. Like the pears--choice.