Sylvie adopted the suggestion instantly. “So Bruno said ‘Please, Sirm, I want it for my Picnic.’ And the Oven said ‘O! But I hope you wo’n’t toast any of it?’ And Bruno said ‘No, indeed I wo’n’t! New Bread’s so light and so puffy, it wants no toasting!’”
“It never doesn’t want no toasting,” said Bruno. “I wiss oo wouldn’t say it so short!”
“So Bruno put the Bread in the hamper. Then Bruno said ‘Now I want some Apples!’ So he took the hamper, and he went to the Apple-Tree, and he picked some lovely ripe Apples. And the Apple-Tree said——” Here followed another long pause.
Bruno adopted his favourite expedient of tapping his forehead; while Sylvie gazed earnestly upwards, as if she hoped for some suggestion from the birds, who were singing merrily among the branches overhead. But no result followed.
“What does an Apple-tree begin with, when it wants to speak?” Sylvie murmured despairingly, to the irresponsive birds.
At last, taking a leaf out of Bruno’s book, I ventured on a remark. “Doesn’t ‘Apple-tree’ always begin with ‘Eh!’?”
“Why, of course it does! How clever of you!” Sylvie cried delightedly.
Bruno jumped up, and patted me on the head. I tried not to feel conceited.
“So the Apple Tree said ‘Eh! What are you going to do with all those Apples?’ And Bruno said ‘Please, Sir, I want them for my Picnic,’ And the Apple-Tree said ‘Eh! But I hope you wo’n’t bake any of them?’ And Bruno said ‘No, indeed I wo’n’t! Ripe Apples are so nice and so sweet, they want no baking!’”
“They never doesn’t——” Bruno was beginning, but Sylvie corrected herself before he could get the words out.