Wouldn't Ma wish the children kept safe and warm anyhow? Can I get up a nice dinner with four rascals under my feet all the time? Come, now, if you want roast turkey and onions, plum-puddin' and mince-pie, you'll have to do as I tell you, and be lively about it."
And I'm know, too, how for mak how for mak " He rubbed his pointed little chin vigorously to jog his laggard memory, and then continued, triumphantly: "Ah, oui! ah, oui! how for mak what de Anglish call de Creesmis plum-puddin', and if you lak I will do de cookin' for you."
But while I was goin' over all this in my mind, an' wonderin' if the cap'n ever could git us into port, along comes Andy Boyle, an' sits down beside me. `It drives me pretty nigh crazy, says he, `to think that to-morrer's Christmas, an' we've got to feed on that sloppy stuff we fished out of our stores, an' not much of it, nuther, while there's all that roast turkey an' plum-puddin' an' mince-pie a-floatin' out there just afore our eyes, an' we can't have none of it. `You hadn't oughter think so much about eatin', Andy, says I,`but if I was talkin' about them things I wouldn't leave out canned peaches.
"Hoh!" said Joel, who caught the imaginary bill of fare, "that's nothing, Polly. I'd speak for a plum-puddin'." "Like the one mother made us for Thanksgiving?" asked Polly, getting up and waiting a minute, cloth in hand, for the answer. "Yes, sir," said Joel, shutting one eye and looking up at the ceiling, musingly, while he smacked his lips in remembrance; "wasn't that prime, though!"
There was roast beef, an' roast mutton, an' duck, an' chicken, an' soup, an' peas, an' beans, an' termaters, an' plum-puddin', an' mince-pie `Shut up with your mince-pie! sung out Tom Simmons. `Isn't it enough to have to gnaw on these salt chips, without hearin' about mince-pie? `An' more'n that' says Andy, `there was canned peaches, an' pears, an' plums, an' cherries.