A Smile From a Milkmaid & Les fins de la faim
Having your cake and eating it too (Le beurre et l’argent du beurre) - Audience Favorite (Prix du Public)
A Smile From a Milkmaid (to the tune of "Humours of Whiskey")
You can’t keep the penny and have the bun too,
Keep flour in your mouth while you whistle a tune,
And the butter costs money: keep the change or the stick,
Throw the milkmaid’s smile in, that would be a trick.
You can’t have it all, though you wish it were true,
You must make a choice to pick one and not two!
For cakes that are eaten are cakes that are gone—
What’s a smile from a milkmaid compared to a song?
You ask me to wash you and not get you wet,
For date fruits to guzzle and God’s favor yet.
And the farmer wants sun for the damp threshing floor
While it rains in the turnip field: yes, nothing more.
You can’t have it all, though you wish it were true,
You must make a choice to pick one and not two!
For butter once traded is butter that's gone—
And the wine in your cup will not last until dawn!
They want their wife drunk and the barrel never empty
For the wolf to be full and a pen of sheep plenty
And for sheep to be full while the garden stays lush
With carrots and fennel and cabbages flush
You can’t have it all, though you wish it were true,
You must make a choice to pick one and not two!
But should you regret it there’s no need panic—
For nothing’s to stop you from changing your mind!
Les fins de la faim
The Cook stole glances at the dessert she had prepared, until she could not help herself, and stole the cake itself. Each bite caressed her tongue like a lover’s embrace, and then the last slice was gone as it was time to bring it upstairs.
The Cook went herself to announce that she had nothing more to serve that night.
—Truly, nothing? asked the Mistress of the house.
—I have not a thing to serve you, because I stole your cake to eat myself.
—And why did you steal the cake to eat it?
—Because I was curious to know whether it could be as good as I imagined it to be.
—And was it?
—It was every bit as good as I imagined, replied the Cook. Though you will decide whether it costs me more than resistance would have.
The curious Mistress reflected that she did not know either what the worth of this excellent and strange Cook was to her, and decided to give her three trials to decide whether she would be allowed to stay.
—If you will feed me exactly what I am craving, I will consider letting you stay on.
The Cook contemplated the task set before her, and agreed.
As she made her way back to the kitchen, she asked the first servant she crossed what they thought the Mistress might crave. They replied with the Cook’s best-known speciality. The Cook asked a second servant on their way upstairs, who replied with a beloved regional dish. A third servant even relayed the Mistress’ favorite meal.
The next day, the Cook served something none had guessed. The Mistress was astounded to find it was exactly what she’d craved all night.
—I asked many servants what they guessed you’d crave, and shared my own guess in return, supposing that if they spoke about my guess all night, you would come to crave it.
The Mistress was pleased, but wanted to devise a task for which the Cook could not so easily enlist help.
—If you will feed me the most delicious meal I have ever had, I will consider letting you stay on.
The Cook contemplated the task set before her, and agreed, with one condition:
—This meal will take a while to prepare. It is very delicious indeed, so you should not eat anything beforehand.
The Mistress agreed easily to this condition. The next day, the Cook did not come upstairs, and so the Mistress inquired hungrily after this delicious meal.
—If you will only wait a bit longer, it will be even more delicious.
The Mistress agreed, but again the next day, the Cook did not come upstairs. With the promise that the meal would be even more delicious, the Mistress continued her fast.
On the third day, her temper wearing thin, the Mistress asked to be served this most delicious meal immediately, in whatever state it was. The Cook brought out a simple loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese.
—The most delicious meal is that which ends starvation.
As she broke fast, the Mistress admired that the Cook had successfully answered her question, but wanted to devise a task that seemed impossible.
—If you will feed me something that will cure me of hunger forever, I will consider letting you stay on.
The Cook contemplated the task set before her, and agreed. She admired the Mistress for the trials she devised, relishing that she thought this last to be impossible.
The Cook went down to the kitchen hearth and picked up a twig from the edge of the fire. She ventured out into the garden, and collected seeds from the vegetables growing there in the sun. She set to baking, then put a steaming bun on a plate with the seeds and twig, and brought this all upstairs.
—If you can make these seeds grow each winter, and this twig always fill the hearth with heat, and keep this bun warm forever, then I will have cured you of hunger.
The Mistress understood that the Cook had solved her trial yet again: the impossible to match the impossible. Smiling, she took a bite of the bun, and her tongue was met with something hard and round, which turned out to be a ring.
The Cook’s solution had a second part:
—If you will marry me, I will collect seeds from our plants and replant them each winter, and plant trees whose twigs will always fill the hearth with heat, and bake buns each day so that there is always a warm one for you to eat. In this way, I hope to cure you of hunger forever.
—I have considered well, replied the Mistress. I think you will stay, after all.
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