"What colour is eating, Sara ?" "Golden brown, just the colour of a molasses cooky," laughed the Story Girl.
We sat on the ferny bank of the pool and ate of the generous basket Aunt Janet had provided, with appetites sharpened by the keen spring air and our wilderness rovings.

Felicity had made some very nice sandwiches of ham which we all appreciated except Dan, who declared he didn't like things minced up and dug out of the basket a chunk of boiled pork which he proceeded to saw up with a jack-knife and devour with gusto.
"I told ma to put this in for me.

There's some CHEW to it," he said.
"You are not a bit refined," commented Felicity.
"Not a morsel, my love," grinned Dan.
"You make me think of a story I heard Uncle Roger telling about Cousin Annetta King," said the Story Girl.

"Great-uncle Jeremiah King used to live where Uncle Roger lives now, when Grandfather King was alive and Uncle Roger was a boy.

In those days it was thought rather coarse for a young lady to have too hearty an appetite, and she was more admired if she was delicate about what she ate.