The young woman dropped her fork, laughing like mad; Edouard did the same, and even Madame Germeuil could not keep a straight face, at sight of the toy which her son-in-law had found in the stew. The reader will remember that at the time of the arrival of the fashionable guests from Paris, everything was in confusion in the restaurant; the scullion was playing with a cup-and-ball; when his mistress burned herself and upset the tub of water, Fanfan was alarmed, and fearing to be scolded by his master and mistress, had thrust his cup-and-ball into the first saucepan that he saw. It happened to be the one containing the rabbit stew, into which the scullion had put his toy. When Master Bonneau took the saucepan later, he covered it without looking in; then the little fellow had watched and stirred the stew, without a suspicion of what was in it; he was very far from thinking that he was cooking his own cup-and-ball. “Aha!” said the host, “it seems that our friends are satisfied; I was sure that that rabbit stew would restore their good humor. So much the better! the result will be that the fowl will pass the more readily. We must make haste and serve it with the salad. Goton, give me the bottle of oil. That’s it. Have you put the eggs on yet? on the top of the salad? Good! that’s very good. This meal will bring us in enough to last a week.” Our man returned to the dining-room, where they had made up their minds to laugh instead of dining. He placed the fowl on the table and stood silent, with the air of a man who expects a compliment. “On my word, monsieur le traiteur,” said Edouard, trying to keep a sober face, “you treat us very strangely! What kind of a thing is a fricassée of cup-and-ball?” “What do you mean, monsieur?” “That we never had such a thing before, Monsieur Bonneau, and that we don’t like it.” “But what does it mean?” “Look, monsieur, is this rabbit?” Master Bonneau was thunderstruck when he saw the cup-and-ball covered with gravy. “Here,” said Adeline, “take away your rabbit stew; what we found in it has taken away all desire to taste it.” “Madame, I am really distressed at what I see! But you must realize that it is not my fault. If rabbits eat cups-and-balls----” “Ah! this is too much; and if your fowl is no better than the rest, we shall have to go elsewhere to dine.” The host left the room, without waiting to hear any more; he rushed back to the kitchen, crimson with rage, and began to pull Fanfan’s ears, to teach him to put cups-and-balls in his stews. “What on earth is the matter, my dear?” Madame Bonneau asked her husband, as she brought him the plate containing the remedy for burns.