Here, sitting round a table under a tree, we came upon a family group, consisting of a little plump, bald-headed _bourgeois_ with his wife and two children--the wife stout and rosy; the children noisy and authoritative.

They were discussing a dish of poached eggs and a bottle of red wine, to the music of a polka close by.
"I should like to dance," said the little girl, drumming with her feet against the leg of the table, and eating an egg with her fingers.

"I may dance presently with Phillippe, may I not, papa ?" "I won't dance," said Phillippe sulkily.

"I want some oysters." "Oysters, _mon enfant_! I have told you twice already that no one eats oysters in July," observed his mother.
"I don't care for that," said Phillippe.

"It's my _fete_ day, and Uncle Jacques said I was to have whatever I fancied; I want some oysters." "Your Uncle Jacques did not know what an unreasonable boy you are," replied the father angrily.