"Certainly. I should have brought more if I could have carried 'em."
"More?"
"Most decidedly. When I buy eats, my lad, I buy everything in sight that looks worth while—if Mr. Pffeffenfifer sells. Mr. Pffeffenfifer sells in such a soulfully seductive way that eats acquire virtues above and beyond their own base selves. Mr. Pffeffenfifer can infuse soul into a sausage. Behold now, eats the most alluring. See, what's this! Ah, yes, here we have, item: Salmi, redolent of garlic! Here again a head cheese, succulent and savoury; here's ham, most ravishingly pink—and a Camembert cheese."
"But, Jiminy Christmas—you bought such a lot of each. Who's goin' t' eat all these?"
"We, of course!"
"But we can't eat 'em all!" sighed Spike.
"Can't we?" said Ravenslee, beginning to view the quantity of the numerous viands with dubious eyes. "They do seem rather a lot now I see 'em all together. But I'm ravenous, and if we can't manage 'em, we'll find some one who can."
"Y' see, Geoff, I shan't be able t' eat any o' the rest when I'm through with the turk'!" sighed Spike, a little reproachfully. "My, but I'm hungry! Strange how hungry cold turkey makes a guy!"
"Why, then," said Ravenslee, pitching his hat into a corner, "sit down, comrade, and 'let mirth with unconfined wing'—" Ravenslee yawned.
"I guess we'd better wait a bit, Geoff."