"Give me twenty minutes, and you shall have a supper fit for a king.

You shall have _white monkey_ on toast! Toast thirty or forty slices of this bread, boys," she added, laughing cheerily.

"Toast it good and brown, while I dress the monkey!" Addison, Thomas and I began toasting bread over the hot stove, but kept a curious eye out for that "white monkey." Of course it was figurative monkey.

Aunt Olive put six quarts of milk in a kettle on the stove, and as it warmed, thickened it slightly with about a pint of corn-meal.
As it grew hotter, she melted into it a square of butter about half the size of a brick, then chipped up fine as much as a pound of cheese, and added that slowly, so as to dissolve it.
Last, she rapidly broke, beat and added a dozen eggs, then finished off with salt and a tiny bit of Cayenne pepper, well stirred in.
For five minutes longer she allowed the kettleful to simmer on the stove, while we buttered three huge stacks of toast.
The monkey was then ready.

All hands gathered round with their plates, and in turn had four slices of toast, one after another, each slice with a generous ladleful of white monkey poured over it.
It was delicious, very satisfying, too, and gave one the sense of being well fed, since it contained all the ingredients of substantial food.