As soon as the little old woman came she had it set over the fire,
and began to stir in the different herbs. First she put in a little hop
for the bitter. Mrs.

Peterkin said it tasted like hop-tea, and not at all like coffee. Then
she tried a little flagroot and snakeroot, then some spruce gum,
and some caraway and some dill, some rue and rosemary, some
sweet marjoram and sour, some oppermint and sappermint, a little
spearmint and peppermint, some wild thyme, and some of the
other tame time, some tansy and basil, and catnip and valerian, and
sassafras, ginger, and pennyroyal. The children tasted after each
mixture, but made up dreadful faces. Mrs. Peterkin tasted, and did
the same. The more the old woman stirred, and the more she put
in, the worse it all seemed to taste.

So the old woman shook her head, and muttered a few words, and
said she must go. She believed the coffee was bewitched. She
bundled up her packets of herbs, and took her trowel, and her
basket, and her stick, and went back to her root of sassafras, that
she had left half in the air and half out. And all she would take for
pay was five cents in currency.

Then the family were in despair, and all sat and thought a great
while. It was growing late in the day, and Mrs. Peterkin hadn't had
her cup of coffee. At last Elizabeth Eliza said, "They say that the
lady from Philadelphia, who is staying in town, is very wise.
Suppose I go and ask her what is best to be done." To this they all
agreed, it was a great thought, and off Elizabeth Eliza went.

She told the lady from Philadelphia the whole story,­how her