From shame, the giants ate the cakes, griddles and all. “Well,” muttered they, “to say that men would eat the like of that bread, and call it too soft! It is no wonder that they walked the world without finding their equals.”
“What exercise do the Fenians have after meals?” asked the giants.
“There is a stone outside,” said the old woman, “which they throw over the house. They throw the stone, run in one door, run out the door opposite, and catch the stone before it comes to the earth.”
One giant caught the stone, but did not throw it. “What is that?” said the other, running up and lifting the stone. To show his power, he threw it over the house, ran through both doors, and caught it coming down. The same giant threw the stone back again, and left it in its old place. Each of the others then did the same as the first. The life came near leaving Fin when he heard the giants throwing the stone, and racing to catch it. He was in dread they’d make bits of the house, and kill his old mother and himself.
“Oh, then,” said the giants, when they left the stone, “it is no wonder that other people get no hand of the Fenians.”
“Well, old woman,” said the eldest giant, “what is that you have there in the dark corner?”
“My grandson, and it is sick and peevish he is.”
“I suppose the child is getting his teeth?” said the giant.
“Indeed, then, I don’t know,” said the old woman; “but maybe it is the teeth that are troubling him.”
With that the eldest giant walked up to the cradle, and put his finger in the child’s mouth; but if he did, Fin took two joints off his finger with a bite.