He knows, in the first place, that his mother never was a boy, and does not suppose that she ever lived by herself, and laid up her bread and cheese upon a shelf.

The whole story, he understands, if he exercises any thought about it whatever--wheelbarrow catastrophe and all--consists only of words which his mother speaks to him to give him pleasure.
By-and-by his mother gives him a piece of cake, and he goes out into the garden to play.

His sister is there and asks him to give her a piece of his cake.

He hesitates.

He thinks of the request long enough to form a distinct image in his mind of giving her half of it, but finally concludes not to do so, and eats it all himself.
When at length he comes in, his mother accidentally asks him some question about the cake, and he says he gave half of it to his sister.