"That was _dreadful_," said Pepper.
"We were treated in that way to prevent us from _sprouting_," continued Ginger. "After being taken out of the water, we were thoroughly dried and then ground. We were then put up in cans and boxes and sold as _Black Ginger_. Others were sc.r.a.ped before being ground, and they were then called _White Ginger_.
"We were placed on board a great ship and finally landed at New York.
After remaining in a large store there for some time, I was brought to the corner grocery, and so I found my way to this shelf.
"I am gradually wasting away, and I shall not last a great while longer.
In my tropical home I seemed to be of no use to anybody, while now I am called for frequently by the cook, and my services seem to be appreciated, so I am happy."
"To be of some real use in this world is the greatest joy of life,"
remarked a strange voice.
There was silence for a moment, and then Ginger said "May we not hear from you, friend?"
"Your stories almost make me believe that I am still in the land of my birth," was the reply.
There was a peculiar little rattle about the voice, which I recognized at once as belonging to Cinnamon.
"For several years I was rocked to and fro by gentle tropic breezes or lashed about by storms. From my perch I could see beautiful flowers, bright insects, and even serpents in the thicket at my feet. Birds of brilliant plumage often perched upon me. My home was on the island of Ceylon.
"It is often said that where there is much bark there is no bite. In my own case that is not so."
"I do not understand," said Ginger.
"Why," said Cinnamon, laughing, "I am _all_ bark, and I have considerable bite, as those who have tasted me know.
"I was taken from one of the smaller limbs of a cinnamon tree. I was slipped within a larger piece of bark, for we each rolled up when stripped from the limbs. A still larger piece was slipped over us and so on until quite a bundle had been formed. Some were quite short, and some were three feet in length."