As the people from the town never talk much at all and never say anything but ""yup"" about Mr. Breton's good cooking, it's gratifying when a blue moose comes out of the nearby woods and praises his clam chowder. The moose, who stays on as a waiter, even inspires the diners to volunteer that Mr. Breton is the best cook in the world, and later persuades a very shy hermit (named Dave) to come in and sample the gingerbread. The only chilly note in this north country idyll is the appearance of the game warden, come to remove ""aforesaid moose"" under section five, subheading six, paragraph three of the state fish and game laws. But even he ends up (though frightened into shock by the aforesaid moose) being treated to a cup of coffee, and the alpha wave atmosphere culminates one day when the moose's humming, mixed with the smell of apple and cinnamon cooking, melts the ice and makes a spring meadow right in Mr. Breton's kitchen. When the actual spring comes and the moose decides that it's time to go, readers will be as jubilant as Mr. Breton to learn that his departure is only for a one-week visit to his uncle. Pinkwater of course puts all the joy and buzz between the words, which seem to be plunked onto the page with the same matter-of-fact aplomb that the moose exhibits clumping into the dining room--where we see him, placid and unselfconscious, waiting on a table of woodsmen. But then this author's ""yup"" is worth more than another's whole thesaurus.