a
merry face. Each of the little workers had a big earthen pan, and
peeled incessantly the apples which the boys brought them. When the
pans were full, they were carried away and others were brought. They
had also to carry away the peels, or the girls would have been buried
in them. Never was there such a peeling before.

Not far away, the children were stoning the plums, cherries, and
peaches. This work, being the easiest, was given to the youngest and
most inexperienced hands, which were all first carefully washed, for
Mother Mitchel, though not very particular about her own toilet, was
very neat in her cooking. The schoolhouse, long unused (for in the
country of the Greedy they had forgotten everything), was arranged for
this second class of workers, and the cat was their inspector. He
walked round and round, growling if he saw the fruit popping into any
of the little mouths. If they had dared, how they would have pelted
him with plum stones! But no one risked it. Fanfreluche was not to be
trifled with.

In those days powdered sugar had not been invented, and to grate it
all was no small affair. It was the work that the grocers used to
dislike the most; both lungs and arms were soon tired. But Mother
Mitchel was there to sustain them with her unequalled energy. She
chose the labourers from the most robust of the boys. With mallet and
knife she broke the cones into round pieces, and they grated them till
they were too small to hold. The bits were put into baskets to be
pounded. One would never have expected to find all the thousand pounds
of sugar again. But a new miracle was wrought by Mother Mitchel. It
was all there!

It was then the turn of the ambitious scullions to enter the lists and
break the seven thousand eggs for Mother Mitchel. It was not hard to
break them--any fool could do that; but to separate adroitly the yolks
and the whites demands some talent, and, above all, great care. We
dare not say that there were no accidents here, no eggs too well
scrambled, no baskets upset. But the experience of Mother Mitchel had
counted upon such things, and it may truly be said that there were
never so many eggs broken at once, or ever could be again. To make an
omelette of them would have taken a saucepan as large as a skating
pond, and the fattest cook that ever lived could not hold the handle
of such a saucepan.

But this was not all. Now that the yolks and whites were once divided,
they must each be beaten sep