"I think not, my cousin. But no matter, if it is only one plate, for there are a good many, as you saw. Only, do be careful when you go home, that's a good boy."
"What is it, anyhow?"
"Why—you cook it with brown sugar, you know."
"Cook what? Leather?"
"Oh, dear! the masculine mind is so obtuse—peaches, O sacred bird of Juno!"
"The eagle?"
"The goose. You really must study mythology, Jack. You cook the peaches with brown sugar, and then you rub them through a sieve,—it's a horrid piece of work!—and then spread them on plates, just as you saw them, and cover them to keep the flies off."
"And leave long ends trailing to trip up your visitors."
"One doesn't expect giraffes to make morning calls. So after a few days it hardens, if it has the luck to be left alone, and then you roll it up."
"Plates and all?"