pointed day all the millers arrived with their asses trotting
in single file, each laden with a great sack of flour. Mother Mitchel,
after having examined the quality of the flour, had every sack
accurately weighed. This was head work and hard work, and took time;
but Mother Mitchel was untiring, and her cat, also, for while the
operation lasted he sat on the roof watching. It is only just to say
that the millers of the Greedy Kingdom brought flour not only
faultless but of full weight. They knew that Mother Mitchel was not
joking when she said that others must be as exact with her as she was
with them. Perhaps also they were a little afraid of the cat, whose
great green eyes were always shining upon them like two round lamps,
and never lost sight of them for one moment.

All the farmers' wives arrived in turn, with baskets of eggs upon
their heads. They did not load their donkeys with them, for fear that
in jogging along they would become omelettes on the way. Mother
Mitchel received them with her usual gravity. She had the patience to
look through every egg to see if it were fresh.

She did not wish to run the risk of having young chickens in a tart
that was destined for those who could not bear the taste of any meat
however tender and delicate. The number of eggs was complete, and
again Mother Mitchel and her cat had nothing to complain of. This
Greedy nation, though carried away by love of good eating, was
strictly honest. It must be said that where nations are patriotic,
desire for the common good makes them unselfish. Mother Mitchel's tart
was to be the glory of the country, and each one was proud to
contribute to such a great work.

And now the milkmaids with their pots and pails of milk, and the
buttermakers with their baskets filled with the rich yellow pats of
butter, filed in long procession to the right and left of the cabin of
Mother Mitchel. There was no need for her to examine so carefully the
butter and the milk. She had such a delicate nose that if there had
been a single pat of ancient butter or a pail of sour milk she would
have pounced upon it instantly. But all was perfectly fresh. In that
golden age they did not understand the art, now so well known, of
making milk out of flour and water. Real milk was necessary to make
cheesecakes and ice cream and other delicious confections much adored
in the Greedy Kingdom. If any one had made such a despicable
discovery, he would have been chased from the c