The supper was exceedingly small, and the travellers drank all the milk in their bowls at one draught.
“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please,” said Quicksilver. “The day has been hot, and I am very much athirst.”
“Now, my dear people,” said Baucis, in great confusion, “I am sorry and ashamed; but the truth is, there is hardly a drop more milk in the pitcher.”
“It appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, taking the pitcher by the handle, “that matters are not quite so bad as you represent them. Here is certainly more milk in the pitcher.” And to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he proceeded to fill not only his own bowl, but his companion’s likewise. The good woman could scarcely believe her eyes.
“But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “and apt to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a mistake. At all events, the pitcher is empty now.”
“What excellent milk!” observed Quicksilver, after quaffing the entire contents of the second bowl. “Excuse me, my kind hostess, but I must really ask you for a little more.”
Baucis turned the pitcher upside down to show that there was not a drop left. What was her surprise, therefore, when such a stream of milk fell bubbling into the bowl that it was filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the table.
“And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother Baucis,” said Quicksilver, “and a little honey!”
Baucis cut him a slice accordingly; and though the loaf, when she and her husband ate of it, had been rather dry and crusty, it was now as light and moist as if but a few hours out of the oven. But, oh, the honey! Its color was that of the purest gold, and it had the odor of a thousand flowers. Never was such honey tasted, seen, or smelled.