Kebaby! It was an odd name and an odd dish.
"It is very, very good," thought our little Turkish cousin, as he began to eat from the steaming soup-plate set before him.
The cook had placed tiny squares of unleavened bread in the bottom of the dish. Over this he had poured a quantity of sour cream, and last of all came little squares of hot meat. The dish was seasoned with salt, pepper, cardamom, and sumach.
"Good! Yes, very good," said Osman's father, as he tasted the kebaby. "There is nothing I like better."
When the lunch was over, he and his little son went to that part or the bazaar where carpets were sold. After many words about the price, a beautiful rug was purchased. Its colours were soft and rich. It was woven so closely it would last for many years. The shopkeeper had said it would be good for a lifetime, and he probably spoke the truth.
"Before we go home, will you take me out on the bridge of boats?" asked Osman. "It isn't far from the bazaar."
"Aren't you too tired?"
"No, indeed; the bath this morning made me ready for anything."
A short walk brought Osman and his father to the bridge of which he had spoken. It joins the main city of Constantinople and the suburb of Pera.
"It doesn't seem as though the bridge could be made of boats until we look over the sides, does it?" said Osman.