The first bright rays of the morning sun coming over the mountain ridge find the Lebanese village housewives stirring. The shops will not open

433 for awhile, but the housewife's day has begun. The butcher soon will hoist his freshly killed sheep's carcass onto the hook in the middle of his shop, to be carved on a first-come, first-choice basis to marketing maids and housewives. The smell of new bread comes from the village oven and trails enticingly after the little maid hurrying from the bakery to her master's house with a fresh stack of warm loaves wrapped neatly in a white cloth.