“Can your lordship put up with pomegranate soup?”
“Let us see the pomegranates.”
Ali ran to his larder, and returned with a basket-full of fruit. Mont-Rognon selected a dozen.
“Don’t forget to serve it up warm, and with a slice or two of orange in it. What next?”
“If your lordship will leave it to me, you shall have no reason to complain. I have been head cook to the King of Mesopotamia for ten years, and His Majesty told me, only eight days since, that he has no pleasure in eating now I have left him. I would suggest, for soups, pomegranate, water-gruel, and ortolan; for entrees, calves’ feet and saffron, and fillet of venison with sweetbreads. For the next course, chicken farci a la Madame Râpée, heron garnished with woodcocks, roast sucking-pig with cameline sauce.”
“I should like well enough a quarter of whale served up on a layer of eggs,” said Allegrignac, carelessly.
“You might have had it this morning. Unfortunately, they had the last of it for King Marsillus to-day.”
“You will give us, instead, a peacock. You will stuff it with chestnuts and saffron, and serve it up with fennel and powdered sugar.”
“I can also offer your lordships dory with orange-juice, and lampreys with lily sauce.”
“Is that all?”