There were weiner-wurst and frankfurter sausages.
There was unsalted butter.

There were pretzels.

There was cold underdone chicken, which one ate in slices, plastered with a wonderful kind of mustard that did not sting.

There were dried apples, that gave Mr.
Sieppe the hiccoughs.

There were a dozen bottles of beer, and, last of all, a crowning achievement, a marvellous Gotha truffle.