She set the other things about Daisy, on the ground and on the rock, and gave the plate of beefsteak into her hand.
"Miss Daisy, what will you do for a table ?" "It's nicer here than a table.

How good you are, June.

I didn't know I wanted it." "I know you do, Miss Daisy." And she went to her sewing, and sewed perseveringly, while Daisy eat her dinner.
"June, what o'clock is it ?" "It's after one, ma'am." "You haven't had your own dinner ?" June mumbled something, of which nothing could be understood except that it was a general abnegation of all desire or necessity for dinner on her own part.
"But you have not had it ?" said Daisy.
"No, ma'am.

They've done dinner by this time." "June, I have eaten up all the beefsteak--there is nothing left but some potato and rice and strawberries; but you shall have some strawberries." June in vain protested.

Daisy divided the strawberries into two parts, sugared them both, broke the remaining roll in two, and obliged June to take her share.