“And now to our popcorn,” she said.
Jenny brought a green gingham apron, and the Princess tied it on, making a big butterfly bow of the strings in the back, and then she danced over to the dumpy little stove and peeped into the bubbling pot.
“Did you ever smell anything so good?” she asked. “I am as hungry as hungry.”
The little girls laughed joyously. “It’s bean soup,” Jenny said, “and we are going to have it for supper with some little dumplings in it. I was afraid it wasn’t nice enough for you.”
“Nice enough?” the delightful lady demanded. “I think bean soup and little dumplings are—um—um!” and she flung out her hands expressively.
“I thought,” Jinny remarked quaintly, “that fairy princesses only ate honey and dew.”
“Which shows that I am not a true Princess,” said the beautiful lady, “for honey and dew would never satisfy me.”
Jenny got out three little blue bowls and set them on a table that was spread with a coarse but spotless cloth. There was a crusty loaf and clover-sweet butter, and last and best of all there was the bean soup and the bobbing little dumplings served together in an old mulberry tureen.
It was perfectly wonderful to see the Princess in her shining gown at the head of the table, and little lame Jinny said, “You were just sent to us for Christmas. Why, it’s just like
“The night before Christmas, when all through the house,