“Not hungry! well, what then—what has being hungry to do with the matter? It is my grandbebee’s cake which was sent because you were kind to the poor person’s child; eat, brother, eat, and we shall be like the children in the wood that the gorgios speak of.”
“The children in the wood had nothing to eat.”
“Yes, they had hips and haws; we have better. Eat, brother.”
“See, sister, I do,” and I ate a piece of the cake.
“Well, brother, how do you like it?” said the girl, looking fixedly at me.
“It is very rich and sweet, and yet there is something strange about it; I don’t think I shall eat any more.”
“Fie, brother, fie, to find fault with the poor person’s cake; see, I have nearly eaten mine.”
“That’s a pretty little dog.”
“Is it not, brother? that’s my juggal, my little sister, as I call her.”
“Come here, juggal,” said I to the animal.