“What are these round pieces?” he asked. “It doesn’t look like the chicken we usually have”
“It’s a funny color,” declared Fishel. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s fruit soup,” explained Mrs. Friedman. “How do you know you don’t like if you haven’t tasted it? Why don’t you try some?”
“Er… no thanks,” replied Fishel.
“Me neither,” echoed Faivish, agreeing with his brother for a change.
They waited eagerly for the main course. They hoped it would be hotdogs and French fries, their favorite. It wasn’t.
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