Babette hurried downstairs and found a small kitchen, with a door leading into the garden. There was a heap of dried wood just outside the door, and, after many attempts, she succeeded in making the fire.
She filled the heavy iron kettle from the pump in the yard, making her pretty frock quite black.
"That's right, that's the way that women should work," said the wizard coolly.
Babette felt indignant and thought that he might offer to help her, but not a bit of it. There he stood, leaning against the door, smoking his long pipe, the picture of laziness.
"Please where is the coffee?" said Babette.
"Use your eyes and you will find it," said her polite host.
Then she saw a jar on a shelf labelled "Coffee," and near it the coffee-mill.
Babette ground the beans till she was red in the face. Then she waited for the water to boil. Whilst she was attending to the coffee, rolls and butter appeared on the table and a blue and white china coffee service. The table seemed to have laid itself; for Babette was sure that the man had never moved from the door. Now breakfast was ready. They sat down together, the wizard saying never a word, but lifting one eyebrow at times in a peculiar way that made Babette feel very uncomfortable.
After breakfast he went out of the house saying: "Clean the house, make the beds, cook the dinner."
"But there is no dinner to cook," said poor Babette.