I've probably forgotten to put any sugar."

"And then she stabbed him and went swiftly home!" Ruth concluded the
narration.... "Don't be frivolous about food. Just one hard-boiled egg
and you perish! None of these gentle 'convenient' shoe-box picnics for
me. Of course I ought to pretend that I have a bird-like appetite, but
as a matter of fact I could devour an English mutton-chop, four
kidneys, and two hot sausages, and then some plum-pudding and a box of
chocolates, assorted."

"If this were a story," said Carl, knocking the crusted snow from dead
branches and dragging them toward the center of a small clearing, "the
young hero from Joralemon would now remind the city gal that 'tis only
among God's free hills that you can get an appetite, and then the
author would say, 'Nothing had ever tasted so good as those trout,
yanked from the brook and cooked to a turn on the sizzling coals. She
looked at the stalwart young man, so skilfully frying the flapjacks,
and contrasted him with the effeminate fops she had met on Fifth
Avenue.'... But meanwhile, squaw, you'd better tear some good dry
twigs off this bush for kindling."

Gathering twigs while Carl scrabbled among the roots for dry leaves,
Ruth went on again with their story: "'Yes,' said the fair maid o' the
wilds, obediently, bending her poor, patient back at the cruel behest
of the stern man of granite.... May I put something into the story
which will politely indicate how much the unfortunate lady appreciates
this heavenly snow-place in contrast to the beastly city, even though
she is so abominably treated?"

"Yes, but as I warned you, nothing about the effect of out-o'-doors on
the appetite. All you've got to do is to watch a city broker eat
fourteen pounds of steak, three pots of coffee, and four black cigars
at a Broadway restaurant to realize that the effeminate city man
occasionally gets up quite some appetite, too!"

"My dear," she wailed, "aside from the vulgarity of the thing--you
know that no one ever admits to a real interest in food--I am so
hungry that if there is any more mention of eating I shall go off in a
corner and howl. You know how those adorable German Christmas stories
always begin: '_Es war Weinachtsabend. Tiefer Schnee lag am Boden.
Durch das Wald kam ein armes Maedchen das weinte bitterlich._' The
reason why she weinted bitterlich was because her soul was hurt at
being kept out of the secret of the beautiful, beautiful food that was
hidde