A strange light had come into Hansel's eyes, and he sighed with ecstacy "Ginger-bread!"
"So," resumed Jack, "I plunged my knife into my pouch hidden under my cloak, and a fine bit of ginger-bread tumbled out."
Everychild repeated the words—"Into the pouch hidden under your cloak." And Jack concluded with—
"Of course—so."
He made an expert pass with his sword, and instantly a number of red apples and a dozen fine tarts rolled from under his cloak and were lying there on the grass.
Without even a hint of ceremony Hansel flung himself forward on his stomach and seized upon the tarts greedily.
Even Grettel could not conceal her desire for food, and she exclaimed joyously, "Oh, tarts! Could I have one?"
"Why not?" replied Jack lightly; whereupon Everychild placed a number of the tarts in her lap, and she began to eat heartily.
"This comes of wearing one's good dress," said Grettel between tarts. "If I'd been wearing an old rag I'd have seen no tricks, that's certain."
Jack regarded her a little curiously. "As I was saying," he resumed, "old Blunderbore shouted 'Pooh-hoo!' at what I had done. That was his ugly, boasting way, you know. He jabbed his knife into his own stomach to show he wasn't to be outdone—and down he fell, dead as a doornail."