Then said Celia,—
"Lisa, do tell us if you know what sort of a place we're going to."
"Cows pulls carts there," observed Baby; "and—and—what was the 'nother thing? We'll have frogses for dinner."
"Baby!" said the others, "what nonsense!"
"'Tisn't nonsense. Ganfather said Thomas and Dones wouldn't go 'cos they was fightened of frogses for dinner. Him doesn't care—frogses tastes werry good."
"How do you know? You've never tasted them," said Fritz.
"Ganfather said zem was werry good."
"Grandfather was joking," said Celia. "I've often heard him laugh at people that way. It's just nonsense—Thomas and Jones don't know any better. Do they eat frogs in your country, Lisa?"
"In mine country, Fräulein Célie?" said Lisa, looking rather vexed. "No indeed. Man eats goot, most goot tings, in mine country. Say, Herr Baby—Herr Baby knows what goot tings Lisa would give him in her country."
"Yes," said Baby, "such good tings. Tocolate and cakes—lots—and bootiful soup, all sweet, not like salty soup. Him would like werry much to go to Lisa's countly."