Meanwhile Maria beat and mixed and stirred the things in her wooden bowl; and by and by ladled out a glassful of rich-looking, yellow, creamy froth—I did not know what it was, only it looked beautiful—and presented it to me.
"Miss Daisy mus' tell Mis' Felissy Maria hain't forgot how to make it—'spect she hain't, anyhow. Dat's for Miss Daisy's Christmas."
"It's very nice!" I said.
"Reckon it is," was the capable answer.
"Won't you give everybody some, Maria?" For Jem had gone upstairs with a tray and glasses, and Maria seemed to be resting upon her labours.
"Dere'll come down orders for mo', chile; and 'spose I gives it to de company, what'll Mis' Lisa do wid Maria? I have de 'sponsibility of Christmas."
"But you can make some more," I said, holding my glass in waiting. "Do, Maria."
"'Spose hain't got de 'terials, hey?"
"What do you want? Aunt Gary will give it to you." And I begged Jem to go up again and prefer my request to her for the new filling of Maria's bowl. Jem shrugged his shoulders, but he went; and I suppose he made a good story of it; for he came down with whatever was wanted—my Aunt Gary was in a mood to refuse me nothing then—and Maria went anew about the business of beating and mixing and compounding.