Giantess does not appear to have an aversion for snakes, for see, she takes from her spouse the harmless ophidian, allowing it to coil about her arms and holding it so that the children may toy with it. Now she brings it into the house, and very unceremoniously cuts off its head, skins it, cuts it in pieces, which she tosses into a large cooking vessel, adds some seasoning, covers the vessel and suspends it over the fire, which Giant has kindled in the great stone fireplace. Now she puts into a broad, deep pan, some of the dark colored meal we have seen on the upper floor, adds milk until the pan is two-thirds full of a thin batter, and, with the addition of some honey and a quantity of yellow sliced fruit, we have before us a pudding which, if not to the queen's taste, is quite to the taste of our Giant friends. Yes, generally, the Entoans use cooking stoves of various kinds, but these Souvanallos appear content with a more primitive method. The brazier over which the pudding is boiling and bubbling is something of a compromise between a fireplace and a stove.
As you have learned that the Entoans have both milch animals and bees, you no longer are surprised that they have both milk and honey. They also have sugar as excellent as you have on Earth.
Have you observed the animal lying under the projection near the fireplace? What a short-legged, long-bodied creature it is, and as spotted as a leopard, which, but for its short legs, it closely resembles. Now it yawns, stretches itself, and follows Giantess about, purring and rubbing itself against her garments, and as she stoops and smooths its glossy fur in a caressing tone she murmurs: "Fenēta̤, Fenēta̤, Inēvo Gandûlana̤, casto seffila̤ dissima̤. Gandûlana̤ essin a̤ tuno, espen dûro."
What does she say? What I have learned of the Ento language I have learned correctly, so find it difficult to translate this dialect. The sense of what she says is about this: "Fenēta̤, Fenēta̤, you shall have some of the serpent broth. The serpent will soon be cooked." Fenēta̤ appears to understand his mistress's hospitable intention and he has taken a position where he can keep an eye on the odorous mess.
Animals generally can perceive spirits. Approach Fenēta̤, Gentola̤. He snarls and shrinks from you as though affrighted, and Giantess seems greatly surprised at the behavior of her pet. Now touch her hands. She regards one hand, now the other, evidently puzzled over the peculiar sensation. Touch both her hands and face. She cries out in alarm, looking about her fearfully. Again touch her face. She flies to Giant and clings to him, crying, "Gandûlana̤, oina̤ dos a̤ correnda̤, espen va̤o a̤ tosa̤ testo."
She tells him that the serpent's life is not gone, that it or something has touched her. Valiantly Giant lifts the cover from the cooking vessel and critically inspects the contents. With evident satisfaction he reassuringly says: "Gandûlana̤, a̤ testo, espen eno nûya̤n dûro." Giantess, as though doubting his assertion, that not only is the serpent dead but well cooked, timidly approaches and takes a rather furtive look at the bubbling mess. Apparently satisfied that no harm can come from that quarter, she excitedly relates her experience, to which Giant listens sympathizingly but evidently incredulously. Not so Fenēta̤, who has crawled under the projection and is regarding us with strong disfavor, but is keeping a sharp outlook for the promised savory stew. As Giantess, with nervous apprehensive glances, stirs some meal into the mess the escaping odor fills the room and Giant says approvingly: "Es fûya̤n mûsa̤," and Fenēta̤ quite agrees with his master, that the odor is good, so tempting, indeed, that he seems inclined to crawl out of his lair, but seeing such uncanny folk about, he draws back. On the long table across the front of the room Giantess places plates, spoons and drinking cups. Into a large deep platter she ladles the stew and carries it steaming to the table. The pudding follows and the luncheon is ready. Giant places some seats, while from the rear doorway Giantess calls, "Ferra̤nd, Tēda̤, Listano," and the children rush into the house and to their seats at the table. The mother serves the father and them bountifully and Fenēta, reassured by the coaxing invitation of his mistress and the children, goes shyly to the generous platter of stew placed for him near his mistress's feet.
This meal is an appetizer for a more substantial one later in the day, and as two of our Ento friends are to join us here we may witness it, not that it is likely to be of particular interest, but it is a part of our plan to show you various features of Ento life. While awaiting the arrival of our friends we will further observe this family.
Gentola—What an incongruity there is between the stature of these children and their apparent ages. The boys are nearly as tall as any of you gentlemen, and the girl is nearly the height of a medium-sized woman. I wonder how old they may be?
De L'Ester—I should say that their respective ages are about eight, ten and twelve years. The luncheon is ended and the family are repairing to the sanctuary. The father with a boy on either side of him, the mother with the girl by her side, stand before the altar with bowed heads and outreaching hands. Reverently the father returns thanks, the mother and children repeating after him: "Andûmana̤, Andûmana̤, Omi felistû, Gandûlanos ino testo. Omi felistû onda̤ ino omi mûsa̤ fer-ûja̤, Oira̤h, Oira̤h, Oira̤h."
The sense of this is: "Supreme One, Supreme One. We offer thanks that the venomous serpents are dead, and again we offer thanks for the good one we have eaten." Oira̤h means praise, thanks, it is so, and the like.