At first, conversation was carried on in whispers. But gradually both Little Cereal and Little Milk would grow more and more excited.
"I AM LITTLE MILK!"
"AND I AM LITTLE CEREAL!"
The cereal was generally covered with an earthenware cover and she grumbled away in her pot like an old woman. When she grew angry, there came to the top a bubble that burst and said:
"Still, I am Little Cereal. Puff!!"
This boasting was offensive to Little Milk.
"My what a wonder! As if one had never seen oatmeal cereal before!" and Little Milk would grow more and more excited until rising to the top in a foam, she tried to get out from the pot. No sooner would Cook turn her head away than Little Milk would run all over the hot stove.
"Oh, this milk," complained Cook every time it happened. "No sooner do I take my eyes off it than it runs over."
"I can't help my fiery temper," would reply Little Milk, defending herself. "It doesn't make me happy to be angry and to hear the boastings of Cereal, 'I'm Cereal! I'm Cereal! I'm Cereal!' To see her sitting there in her pan and grumbling makes me angrier and angrier."
It happened sometimes that, in spite of the cover, Little Cereal would escape from her pan and creep along the stove, forever repeating: