"What have you in your basket?" Beatrice asked.

"A little piglet, Nobility--un piccolo porcellino," said

Marietta.

And lifting the cover an inch or two, she displayed the anxious

face of a poor little sucking pig.

"E carino?" she demanded, whilst her eyes beamed with a pride

that almost seemed maternal.

"What on earth are you going to do with him?" Beatrice gasped.

The light of pride gave place to a light of resolution, in

Marietta's eyes.

"Kill him, Mightiness," was her grim response; "stuff him with

almonds, raisins, rosemary, and onions; cook him sweet and

sour; and serve him, garnished with rosettes of beet-root, for

my Signorino's Sunday dinner."

"Oh-h-h!" shuddered Beatrice and Emilia, in a breath; and they

resumed their walk.




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