"I couldn't squeeze down a single 'nother thing if I was paid for it," wailed he. "And I did so want a second helping of pudding! Why didn't you stop me, Ma, when I started out on that giant sweet potato?"
His mother shrugged her shoulders.
"You must learn to make your own choices," said she. "Perhaps 'twill teach you next time not to covet all you see. And now, before we begin to clear up, I want to make sure you are all content. There must be no regrets. I don't want to hear to-morrow that you wish you had had so-and-so. So think well before the food is whisked into the pantry. Has everybody had enough?"
A chorus of muffled groans arose.
"What do you think we are, Ma?" Tim managed to murmur.
"Indeed I don't know," was the grim retort. "I've often wondered. So you think you couldn't eat a morsel more?"
"Think! We know we couldn't," gasped Carl.
"Then sit still a second, all of you, till I take a good look at you!" commanded their mother. "That I should live to see the day when I would dish up a meal without some amongst you yammering for another helping! I'm almost tempted to take an affidavit with your signatures in black and white and preserve it in the family Bible."
With arms akimbo she viewed her grinning flock.
"Well, since you're beyond urging, we may as well turn to the dishes—that is, if anybody can stagger up and help."