"Ain't you afraid o' being frizz to death?"
"Oh, I think we can stand it."
"What have ye took along to eat?"
Snap told her and she shrugged her shoulders.
"Ye ought to have brung more, boys. Now, I've jest been a-makin' some mince pies. Wouldn't ye like one o' them?"
"Yes, indeed!" shouted Whopper, who had a weakness for that dainty. "I can eat mince pie in the middle of my sleep."
"Then you shall have the biggest pie o' the lot," said Mrs. Lundy. "And, Simon," she added, to her husband, "you jest kill a couple o' fat chickens fer 'em. Maybe they won't find no game the first day they be in camp, an' they ought to have some kind o' meat."
"It's drefful expensive!" groaned Simon Lundy.
"Shucks! These boys did us a real service, an' want 'em to know we appreciate it," answered Mrs. Lundy briskly.
She told her husband what chickens to catch and kill, and helped pull the feathers. Then she brought forth the still steaming mince pie, leaving it in the stone dish in which it had been baked.