"Say, bub—say, now," said Hickey, gazing anxiously down into the pointed face, "you've done enough—don't get rash."
"I'll stop when it's time," said Smeed; "bring 'em on now, one at a time."
"Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine!"
Suddenly, at the moment when they expected him to go on forever, little Smeed stopped, gazed at his plate, then at the fiftieth pancake, and said:
"That's all."
Forty-nine pancakes! Then, and only then, did they return to a realisation of what had happened. They cheered Smeed, they sang his praises, they cheered again, and then, pounding the table, they cried, in a mighty chorus:
"We want pancakes!"
"Bring us pancakes!"
"Pancakes, pancakes, we want pancakes!"