Yet soon fell in with that contented mood,
That when our hut’s light broke on his new mind
He could not credit it—too soon it seemed:
The stranger man’s talk was witchery.
I pray his baking be as magical;
The cakes should be nigh burnt.
[She calls the Nubian. He answers from within.]
Nubian
They are laid by to cool, housewife.
Lilith