"Now, you see, if you had not brought me this, we could not have kept up the fire. Well, will you have a bannock?"
"Hühü! that I will," said the old woman, stretching out her shrivelled arms.
"There, now—eat it," said Mistress Kata, handing her a large cake. "But you must eat it before me."
"Hühü! I will take it to Joska bacsi!"
"Joska bacsi doesn't want it. Joska bacsi has sent to say that you are to eat it yourself."
"Really! did he say that?" asked the old woman; and then, with a deep sigh, she began to swallow the bannock. She did not bite it, not having wherewithal, but pushed the pieces into her mouth and swallowed them, heaving a deep sigh at every mouthful; and, when she thought nobody was observing her, she hastily concealed the remainder in her apron, and looked round in great glee at having succeeded so cleverly.
"What will she do with the piece she has hidden?" I asked Mistress Kata.
"She keeps it, poor fool, for Joska bacsi!"
On hearing Joska bacsi mentioned, the old woman looked eagerly up, and asked, "What does Joska bacsi say?"
"He says you must count how many poppy-seeds[32] there are in that plate," said one of the maids, laughing.