The old woman put three cakes in the ashes, and the griddles inside in them. When the giants came, the cakes were ready, and the old woman was sitting near the cradle.
“Is this Fin MacCool’s house?” asked the giants.
“It is,” said the old woman.
“And is Fin himself in the house?”
“He is not then,” said the old woman; “and it is seldom he is in it.”
“Have you any food to give us?”
“I have nothing but three loaves of bread; ye may have these, and welcome.”
“Give us the bread,” said the giants.
The old woman put the cakes on the table. One took a bite, another took a bite, then the third took a bite; and they all looked at one another.
“I know ye think the bread too soft,” said Fin’s mother. “The Fenians always blame me for making it too soft; and these cakes are not baked very well. They are softer than the usual bread of the Fenians.”