"Oh, yes! We all like cocoa, Miss Miller," said Hilda.
"Here comes Bill Sherwood—he's got something!" announced Elena, who had been standing on the rock above the fire.
The others craned their necks and Zan added, "Bet anything it's something good to eat!"
And so it was. Bill bobbed his head smilingly to the girls and offered Miss Miller a plate covered with a home-spun towel.
"The old lady fried some spring chicken for breakfast an' we said we rickoned it might taste good t' yuh—so here it is!"
"Broiled chicken! But, Mr. Sherwood, you must allow us to reimburse you for the chickens. It would not be right for us to eat your broilers!" said Miss Miller, deeply obliged.
"We likes t' make th' camp enjyable t' yuh all! Mebbe you'll git straightened out so's yuh kin prepare your own things pritty soon," explained Bill.
"Why, we cooked supper last night—and a fine one it was," said Zan, pointing to the camp-fire.
Bill's lower jaw dropped and he stood staring at the novel cook-stove. "Laws me! That beats th' Dutch!" ejaculated he.