"Sit ye down." Curly sat down on the edge of the bed, under whose blanket the newspapers still rattled to the touch, "Seems like you all mighty busy this mornin'," said he.
"Yes," said Franklin, "we've got business on hand now.

You can't guess what we're cooking." "No; what ?" "Pie." "Go 'long!" "Yes, sir, pie," said Franklin firmly.
Curly leaned back on the bed upon his elbow, respectful but very incredulous.
"Our cook made a pie, onct," said he, to show himself also a man of worldly experience.

"That was down on the Cimarron, 'bout four years ago.

We et it.

I have et worse pie 'n that, an' I have et better.