As Baucis made these preparations, Philemon went out to their small garden and gathered the last of the pot-herbs. Baucis put these to boil in the kettle and Philemon cut a piece from their last flitch of bacon and put it in to flavor the herbs. A bowl carved from beech wood was filled with warm water that the strangers might be refreshed by bathing their faces, and then Baucis tremblingly made the preparations for serving the meal. The guests were to sit on the only bench which the cottage afforded and Baucis laid a cushion stuffed with seaweed on it and over the cushion she spread a piece of embroidered cloth, ancient and coarse, but one that she used only on great occasions. One of the legs of the table was shorter than the other, but Philemon placed a flat stone under it to make it level, and Baucis rubbed sweet smelling herbs over the entire top of the table. Then she placed the food before the strangers, the steaming, savory herbs, olives from the wild trees of Minerva, some sweet berries preserved in vinegar, cheese, radishes, and eggs cooked lightly in the ashes. It was served in earthen dishes and beside the guests stood an earthenware pitcher and two wooden cups. There could hardly have been a more appetizing supper, and the kindly cheer of the two old peasants made it seem even more delectable. The guests ate hungrily and when they had emptied the dishes Baucis brought a bowl of rosy apples and a comb of wild honey for dessert. She noticed that the two seemed to be enjoying their milk hugely and it made her anxious, for the pitcher had not been more than half full. They filled their cups again and again and drained them. "They will finish the milk and ask for more," Baucis thought, "and I have not another drop." Then a great fear and awe possessed the old woman. She peered over the shoulder of the older of the strangers into the pitcher and saw that it was brimming full! He poured from it for his companion and it was again full to overflowing as he set it down. Here was a miracle, Baucis knew. Suddenly the strangers rose and their disguise of age and travel stained garments fell from them. They were Jupiter, the king of the gods, and his winged son, Mercury! Baucis and Philemon were struck with terror as they recognized their heavenly guests, and they fell on their knees at the gods' feet. With their shaking hands clasped they implored the gods to pardon them for their poor entertainment. They had an old goose which they tended and cherished as the guardian of their cottage, and now they felt that they must kill it as a sacrifice and offering to Jupiter and Mercury. But the goose ran nimbly away from them and took refuge between the gods themselves. "Do not slay the bird," Jupiter commanded. "Your hospitality has been perfect. But this inhospitable village shall pay the penalty for its lack of reverence. You alone shall remain unpunished. Come and look at the valley below."