"Ketchup, that's for sure...." Peter murmured, rolling a mouthful around his tongue as he sought to separate its component flavors. "And rhubarb, I should say."
"Dried fish and garlic...." Kendrick made further identifications.
"And a comestible called marshmallow," Iximi beamed. "You like it? I am so glad!"
"I do not—" Kendrick began, but Peter intervened.
"It's very nice, Iximi," he said tactfully, "but I guess we're just used to old run-of-the-mill Earth cooking. It's all our fault; we should have given you a recipe."
"I had a recipe," Iximi returned. "It came to me by Divine Inspiration."
Kendrick compressed his lips.
"Useful sort of divinity they have around here," Peter said. "Everything that goes wrong seems to take place in the name of religion. Are you sure you didn't happen to overhear us talking before, Iximi?"
"Don't be silly, Hammond!" Kendrick snapped. "These simple primitives do not have the sophistication to use their religious beliefs consciously as rationalization for their incompetence."
"Even had I wished to eavesdrop," Iximi said haughtily, "I would hardly have had the opportunity; I was too busy trying to prepare a palatable repast for you and—" her voice broke—"you didn't like it."