"What do you Curlytops want me to do with these?" asked Nora, as the two children came along, laughing and shouting, with the fish dangling from strings each of them carried.
"Cook 'em, of course!" cried Teddy. "That's what we caught them for,
Nora—to have you cook them."
"But won't they bite me?" asked the cook, pretending to be afraid.
"Oh, no! They can't!" explained Jan.
"They bit on our hooks, and now they can't bite any more, but we can bite them," said Teddy.
"Oh, would you bite the poor fish?" asked Nora.
For a moment the Curlytops did not know what to answer. Then Teddy replied:
"Oh, well, it can't hurt 'em to bite 'em after they're cooked, can it?"
"No, I guess not," laughed Nora, "no more than it can hurt a baked potato. Well, run along and I'll get the fish ready for dinner, or whatever you call the next meal. I declare, I'm so mixed up with this camping business that I hardly know breakfast from supper. But run along, and I'll fry the fish for you, anyhow."
"Let's go and take a walk," proposed Jan, when they had washed their hands in the tin basin that Mother Martin had set on a bench under a tree, with a towel and soap near by, for fish did leave such a funny smell on your hands, the little girl said.