"That," said the Widow Pickle, "is very easy, if you will but get me a Waffle-iron and permit me to build a fire here in front of the palace."
The King turned to the Private Secretary. "Jiji," said he, "get her a Waffle-iron at once. If there is no such thing, have it made by the royal smiths. Pray, madam, what is a Waffle-iron made of?"
"That is too bad," said the King. "We have no such precious metal as that. I suppose we shall have to make it out of gold. Do you mind if we make it of gold?"
"I never saw one of gold, your Majesty," replied the Widow Pickle, "but perhaps I could make out with it." In her heart she was thinking that if she ever told her friends she had baked Waffles on a gold Waffle-iron, they certainly would not believe her; but we can easily see how much mistaken her friends would have been in that case.
"Very well," said the King. "Get the lady a gold Waffle-iron and help her all you can with her work. If she is half as good a cook as you think, she also may have some sort of throne; although I much regret that her hair is far from the desirable color for those of the royal household."
"I ought to have a little flour," said the Widow, "and a little milk."
"Milk?" said the King. "How unfortunate! The royal cows are all lost in the woods, every one of them, and not even the Court Detective, whom I employ for that purpose, can find them."
"Don't you know how to find them?" cried Zuzu eagerly.
"No, to be sure I don't. I'm too busy to learn such things."