“There wasn’t half enough,” said Joel, looking over his shoulder at the cleared table set up against the wall. “Why isn’t there ever any more to eat, Mamsie?”
“Never mind,” said Mrs. Pepper, stitching fast. “Well, now, to-morrow you shall have a good deal. You will like the basket I shall pack for you,” she added cheerily.
“What’s to be in it?” cried Joel, smacking his lips, “candy, and a pie?”
“O dear me! Joe—not those things,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“Then some cake,” said Joel, hanging over her knee, so that his small elbows dragged her work down.
“No indeed,” she slipped the sewing away, but let the elbows remain, “cake isn’t the best thing for children to eat in the woods. But, Joel, just think, Mother is going to give you some nice thick slices of bread and—butter.”
“Not butter?” cried Joel, quite overcome.
“Yes,” Mrs. Pepper nodded.
“And spread it thick, do, Mamsie,” cried Joel, dreadfully excited, “as thick as that.” He took off his elbows to put his little brown hands a good distance apart.
Mrs. Pepper laughed. “You never would relish butter again if you had it as thick as that, Joey,” she said. “Now run over and tell Ben and Polly all about it.”