Mrs. C. (reprovingly). Of course you mean the cream, John. (Passing the pitcher.)
Mr. C. (receiving the pitcher). No, I mean the milk.
Mrs. C. (rather sharply). But, my dear, it isn’t milk; it’s cream.
Mr. C. (obstinately). It is not! It’s milk. (Spelling it.) M-i-l-k, milk!
Mrs. C. (stirring her coffee). It is not milk, John. Milk is what the cows give—this is cream!
Mr. C. (with a grin, still holding the pitcher). I never knew before that cream does not come from milk. Very remarkable!
Mrs. C. (a little confused). Now don’t try to misunderstand me. Of course milk comes from cream, and that pitcher contains cream, not milk.
Mr. C. (with another grin). Martha, I never knew before that milk comes from cream.
Mrs. C. (with dignity). That was a slip of my tongue.
Mr. C. (gleefully). Yes, just as when you say that this pitcher contains cream.