"And if you wouldn't whip us to-night, mother—anyway, not so soundly," said the second son.
To this the Old Woman retorted: "Who does the whipping around here, I'd like to know? Come here this instant!"
It seemed that there was to be a brief respite, however; for the Old Woman turned to the steaming pot and began testing its contents with great seriousness, lifting the ladle to her lips again and again, and looking abstractedly far away into the forest.
In the meantime more of the children gathered around Everychild. A few of the girls now joined their brothers. They looked at Everychild with unconcealed admiration.
"What do you suppose she is going to do to you?" asked Everychild of the group about him.
The first son replied to this: "I should think you'd know. Haven't you been told how she whips us something terrible?"
Everychild inquired in amazement: "All of you?"
The first daughter now spoke. "All of us," she said. "Every last one of us. That's just before she puts us to bed, you know."
"Of course—I remember now," said Everychild. "She 'whips you all soundly.'"
"That's no word for it," declared the first son. "You know she's had an awful lot of experience all these years. And there's so many of us."