Maman-Nainaine said that when the were ripe Babette might go to visit her cousins down on the Bayou-Lafourche where the sugar grows. Not that the of figs had the least thing to do with it, but that is the way Maman-Nainaine was.  
It seemed to Babette a very long time to wait; for the leaves upon the trees were tender yet, and the figs were like little hard, green marbles.
 
But warm rains came along and plenty of strong sunshine, and though Maman-Nainaine was as patient as the statue of la Madone, and Babette as restless as a humming-bird, the first thing they both knew it was hot summer-time. Every day Babette danced out to where the fig-trees were in a long line against the fence. She walked slowly beneath them, 400carefully peering between the gnarled, spreading branches. But each time she came away again. What she saw there finally was something that made her sing and dance the whole long day.
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