Down in the dingle-dell,
Hot waffles do I sell!”
And with that the man did something to the little stove on the white table in front of him and, like the magician doing tricks, such as taking a rabbit out of a hat, the man clapped out on a plate some hot waffles, over which he sprinkled powdered sugar.
“Here you are!” he cried. “Hot waffles for a penny. Simple Simon’s pie! Oh, my eye! Hot waffles high and dry! Want to buy?” and he leaned down over the table in the side of the red wagon and looked smilingly at the children in the goat cart as the store-keeper leans over his counter to hear what the little girl says when her mother sends her to the grocer’s for a yeast cake and she buys a pound of sugar instead.
“Want to buy some waffles?” asked the fat man.
“Are they really a penny?” asked Ted.
“That’s all—no more, no less. A penny apiece, ten cents a dozen.”
“We couldn’t eat a dozen,” said Jan, wide-eyed. “Anyhow mother wouldn’t like us to. But we could buy one apiece.”
“Then please do,” begged the fat man. “I haven’t sold any since I left the last town, and I’d like to make a start. Come, I’ll give you each two for a penny, seeing you are my first customers. Here you are,” and as nimble as a cat when she’s jumping over a fence to get away from the dog, the fat man ran from his wagon, coming out of the little door in the back, and stood bowing before the children with the plate of hot waffles in his hand.
“Here you are,” he cried. “Two for a penny.”