"Call it tea," said the doctor, "and hurry up."
"No, chocolate is better. How do you make chocolate?" said the landlady, turning to her cook-book.
"I don't know, and don't care," fumed the doctor. "Baked in a slow oven, most likely, with a top crust. Let the chocolate slide."
"Well, I will. And now I'll make the omelette. Eggs? yes; there are eggs enough; but dear me, where's the milk? This condemned kind my lady tells about won't do to make omelettes. I shouldn't dare try it."
"Well, well, give us a little bread and butter. I've got past being particular."
"O, Dr. Moonshine, such biscuits as I'm going to bake for you at five o'clock! But now I really can't find a speck of bread!"
"I'll warrant it! I always heard that when old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard she found the shelves were all bare."
"Then you needn't have come here to board. Won't crackers and raisins do?"
They had to do; and the boarders tried to be satisfied in view of the coming dinner.
All the afternoon Mother Hubbard spent between the cake-board and the mouth of the oven.