"Hurry up darling, we wouldn't want Mrs Hubbard to wait too long," Julie Ivans called.

Her two children immediately started chanting, "Old Mother Hubbard, went to the cupboard – "

"Shh!" hushed Julie immediately, mortified. "You are NOT to sing that nursery rhyme at her house later."

Her children giggled and ran out of the house.

"You can hardly blame them for singing. Frankly, that old cow deserves it." A stout man tramped down the stairs.

"Edward!" Julie admonished. "Watch your language!"

Edward Ivans shrugged. He was a short, bespectacled man who was a powerful CEO of a powerful company and he knew it.

"Well, she IS an old cow. A grumpy and moody old cow, in fact. Just because old Charlie pooped a few times in her garden, she had to go and complain to the tribunal! Lucky for me I had friends in high places. Pissed her off proper when Charlie didn't get punished, I bet."

Julie sighed as she fixed her husband's tie. "It wasn't a few - that dog pooped almost eight times! And she HAD worked so hard to plant those beautiful camellias – "

"So what?" Edward blustered on. "That diamond studded, French imported collar around Charlie's neck itself is probably worth more than her miserable excuse of a home."

Julie exhaled heavily and turned to look at the clock. "Oh look! Turns out we won't be late after all."

Immediately her husband began making a fuss. "Oh no! Oh no, I just remember that I have SO MANY things to do about Charlie. I haven't gotten the kennel cleaned out, or change the water, or give him food..."

Julie pursed her lips and gave her husband a stern look. "Don't you start! We're leaving this instant. NOW."

Edward rolled his eyes and made a face. "FINE. At least let me give him his dog food."

The dog food was placed in a bowl of stainless steel outside Charlie's kennel. Charlie had ran off somewhere, and wasn't there.

"Charming the ladies, I expect," Edward chuckled. "Just like his old dad here."

Mrs Hubbard's house was but thirty steps away. It was an old cottage, with thatched roofs and patched walls. Edward wrinkled his nose at the plainness of it.

"I wonder why Mrs Hubbard invited us for dinner?" Julie thought out loud.

"Well I know why!" Edward snorted. "Her son's a new intern at my company, that's why! Trying to get on my good side, no doubt. Next thing you know, that old cow will be asking for her son's promotion."

Julie shushed him urgently, for Mrs Hubbard was standing on the steps waiting for them.

She was an old, old lady, with gnarled fingers and a permanent stoop. Her voice was soft and wispy as she greeted them.

"Hello. Welcome. I hope you enjoy the dinner."

"I doubt that," Edward grumbled, earning himself an elbow from his wife. If Mrs Hubbard heard it she gave no sign.

The meal was waiting for them, a simple affair in the homely kitchen.

"I'm afraid I don't have much," Her voice was gentle and apologetic. "I have only prepared one course."

Edward stared at the plate in front of him in barely concealed disgust. What? Just this? Some meat, some sauce and limp vegetables? Where was the steak? The fries and the ice cream?

Julie nudged him and he began to eat unwillingly.

As the first bite entered his mouth however, he blinked. He looked back at the plate, this time in surprise. Beside him, Julie had struck up a conversation with Mrs Hubbard. He wasn't listening. His attention was all focused on the plate in front of him.

This dish...this dish was good! He had tasted all the best food in town, and considered himself a connoisseur of fine food. This meat was different from all of them. It tasted different from all the gourmet food, yet it was a difference that was welcomed. It had......it had class.

Could the old woman in front of him now, dressed in a faded gown, really be the chef of this scrumptious meal? Could his impression of Mrs Hubbard had been wrong? Maybe she once had been a five-star chef! The meal certainly tasted like one.

He dug in with gusto. Julie noticed it with pleasure. The conversation lightened a bit, and Mrs Hubbard smiled her pale smile back at them.

The evening wound down and the family bid their goodbyes. Mrs Hubbard watched them from the front step, moonlight bathing her thin figure. She stood there long after they were gone.

"Well?" Julie asked. "Change your mind about her, have you?"

Edward sniffled. "So the old cow can cook. Doesn't mean anything."

Julie only shook her head, smiling. She bathed the children and sent them up to bed. Coming down her stairs, she was mildly surprised to see her husband still up.

"Coming for bed dear?" she asked.

"In a moment. I'm waiting up for Charlie." Edward Ivans settled in his Paris-imported armchair, propped up his legs and opened the newspaper.

He waited.

* * * * * *

In the kitchen of a plain cottage, Mrs Hubbard cleared up the plates and cleaned the carving knife. As she did so, she hummed softly to herself. It was a rhyme she had been teased with all her life.

Old Mother Hubbard

Went to the cupboard

To get her poor dog a bone;

But when she came there

The cupboard was bare,

And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the baker's

To buy him some bread;

But when she came back

The poor dog was dead.

She stopped there, and wiped the table clean. Switching the lights off, she walked out of the kitchen, pausing only for a moment to dispose of a diamond studded, French imported dog collar.