'Lord, Lord! Well, it _is_ strange that I who gave birth to her, and was a woman then, should be alive and merry now, and she lying there: so cold and stiff! Lord, Lord!--to think of it; it's as good as a play--as good as a play!' As the wretched creature mumbled and chuckled in her hideous merriment, the undertaker turned to go away.
'Stop, stop!' said the old woman in a loud whisper.

'Will she be buried to-morrow, or next day, or to-night?
I laid her out; and I must walk, you know.

Send me a large cloak: a good warm one: for it is bitter cold.

We should have cake and wine, too, before we go! Never mind; send some bread--only a loaf of bread and a cup of water.

Shall we have some bread, dear ?' she said eagerly: catching at the undertaker's coat, as he once more moved towards the door.
'Yes, yes,' said the undertaker,'of course.