"Darter," says she, "put you them there pies on the shelf an' leave 'em there a little, an' they'll come agin—" She meant, you know, the crust 'ud get soft.
But the gal, she says to herself, "Well, if they'll come agin, I'll ate 'em now." And she set to work and ate 'em all, first and last.
Well, come supper time, the woman she said, "Goo you and git one o' them there pies; I daresay they've come agin, now."
The gal, she went an' she looked, and there warn't nothin' but the dishes. So back she come and says she, "Noo, they ain't come agin."
"Not none on 'em?" says the mother.
"Not none on 'em," says she.
"Well, come agin, or not come agin," says the woman, "I'll ha' one for supper."
"But you can't, if they ain't come," says the gal.
"But I can," says she. "Goo you and bring the best of 'em."
"Best or worst," says the gal, "I've ate 'em all, and you can't ha' one till that's come agin."