"And then there's meals, o'course. Uh. You understand, yes? Food. You eat. No?" He made the appropriate motions.
"Fut?" said the little man.
"Yes," said Broadman, beginning to sweat. "Have a look in your little book, I should." The man opened the book and ran a finger down one page. Broadman, who could read after a fashion, peered over the top of the volume. What he saw made no sense.
"Fooood," said the stranger. "Yes. Cutlet, hash chop, stew, ragout, fricassee, mince, collops, souffle, dumpling, blancmange, sorbet, gruel, sausage, not to have a sausage, beans, without a hear, kickshaws, jelly, jam. Giblets." He beamed at Broadman.
"All that?" said the innkeeper weakly.