“It is that finger which gives me my strength,” the foolish giant told her. Once more he took up the rock and squeezed the rock harder than ever with no result. The baby in the cradle set up a lusty cry.
“Poor baby,” said the woman. “He is sorry for you. His father lets him practice on a small rock. See what he can do.”
She gave Finn the ball of whey. Finn took it in his two hands and squeezed it, letting the water stream on the floor. The giant was amazed.
“It’s a pretty strong baby,” he admitted.
“It would have to be to belong to Finn MacCool,” said the woman.
The giant seemed to be thinking deeply. Perhaps he doubted his wisdom in coming to try conclusions with the father of such a baby.
Soon Finn’s foster-mother took one of the cakes from the cupboard and handed it to the giant.
“Take this,” she said. “It will help stay your appetite until I get you something better.”
The giant thanked her and bit down into the cake. As it was one of those with the iron core, all he succeeded in doing was to break off two of his teeth. He took the cake out of his mouth and felt his jaw.
“What’s the matter?” asked the woman. “Maybe those cakes are too hard for you. Finn wouldn’t eat them because they were too soft. I’ll get you another one.”