The apples were hard. "No, no, no," she said, "it is not done yet."
So she put on the lid of the pot, and laid the fork on the mantelpiece, and sat down in her arm-chair, and began to knit again on the big blue woollen stocking.
She knit six times round the stocking, and then she said to herself—"I wonder if the dumpling is done?"
So she put her knitting down, and took the fork from the mantelpiece, and lifted the lid of the pot, and looked in.
As she was looking in, her spectacles tumbled off of her nose, and fell into the pot.
"Oh dear! Oh dear!—that's bad, that's bad," said the old woman.
She got the tongs and fished up her spectacles, and wiped them with the corner of her apron, and put them on her nose again, and took the fork and stuck it into the dumpling. The apples were just beginning to get soft.
"No, no, no; it is not quite done yet," said the old woman.
So she put on the lid of the pot, and laid the fork on the mantelpiece, and sat down in her arm-chair, and began to knit again on the big blue woollen stocking.
She knit twice round the stocking, and then she said to herself—"I wonder if the dumpling is done?"