“Come, children,” cried maman Nelle, “it’s time now to make the batter.”

She reached down an iron pan, lined with shining white enamel, poured in the flour, the eggs, and the milk.  After turning up her sleeves over her brown arms, she whipped all vigorously together.  When she had beaten the batter well, she placed the pan on a chair near the fire and covered it with a cloth that it might rise.  Tobias took down the frying-pan, greased it with a little lard, and put it on the stove for a moment to warm, so that the batter might brown all over equally.

Riekje and Dolf, sitting side by side on the same bench, took some apples from a basket, cored, and afterwards sliced them.  Then Nelle went slyly to fetch a second saucepan from the cupboard and placed it on the fire; she poured in some warm water, adding flour, thyme, and laurel leaves.  Dolf noticed that the saucepan contained something else, but Nelle covered it up so quickly that he could not tell whether it were meat or cabbage.  He was puzzled and tried to guess.

Gradually the contents began to boil, and a thin, brown smoke escaped from the lid which bubbled up and down.  Dolf stretched his nose towards the stove and opened his nostrils wide enough for a nut to rest in each, but still he could not define the smell.

When maman Nelle went to lift the lid to see if the contents were cooking properly, he stood on tip-toe behind her back, making himself, for the fun of the thing, first quite short, and then quite tall.

Riekje laughed quietly as she looked out of the corner of her eye.  Suddenly Dolf gave a cry to surprise his mother, but Nelle had seen him come up, and just at the moment when he thought to look into the pot she put down the lid and nodded to him: 

“Who’s caught now, Dolf?” But he cried out, laughing; “I saw that time, mother.  It’s Slipper’s old cat that you have put into the stew-pan, with some candle-grease.”

“Yes,” replied Nelle, “and next time I shall fry mice.  Go and set the table, and leave me alone you bad fellow.”

Dolf went quietly into the closet, leading from the cabin.  Choosing a very white and well-starched shirt he put it on over his clothes and came back flapping the tails.

When Nelle saw him she put her hands to her hips and laughed till the tears streamed down her face; Riekje clapped her hands and laughed too.  Tobias remained serious, and, while Dolf walked up and down the room, asking Nelle if she would not have him for a cook, he took the plates out of the cupboard and began to rub them on a corner of the shirt.  Then the good Nelle fell into a chair and slapped her knee with her hand as she rocked herself backwards and forwards.  At last the table was spread; the plates shone round and bright as the moon in water, while the pewter forks beside them were bright as silver.

Nelle opened the saucepan for the last time, tasted the gravy, and raising the big tin spoon, in command, cried: