This here is the real thing.

That pie that our cook made on the Cimarron--why, it was made of dried apples.

Why didn't you tell me you had real apples ?" The pie, startling as it was in some regards, did not long survive the determined assault made upon it.

Curly wiped his knife on the leg of his "chaps" and his mouth on the back of his hand.
"But say, fellers," he said, "I plumb forgot what I come over here for.
They's goin' to be a dance over to town, an' I come to tell you about it.
O' course you'll come." "What sort of a dance can it be, man ?" said Battersleigh.
"Why, a plumb dandy dance; reg'lar high-steppin' outfit; _mucha baille_; best thing ever was in this settlement." "I'm curious to know where the ladies will come from," said Franklin.
"Don't you never worry," rejoined Curly.

"They's plenty o' women-folks.
Why, there's the section boss, his wife--you know her--she does the washin' for most everybody.