One Hundred Years of Solitude

were-trooped in to occupy the
best places at the table, while
the cooks bumped into each
other with enormous kettles
of soup, pots of meat, large
gourds filled with vegetables,
and troughs of rice, and
passed around the contents of
barrels of lemonade with
inexhaustible ladles. The
disorder was such that
Fernanda was troubled by the
idea that many were eating
twice and on more than one