In plain words
After the ṛṣis had bathed and come back, He untied the bundle. It was rice cooked in milk, giving off a rich fragrance. The children were all around, weren't they, the monkeys! “Kṛṣṇa! Where did You get this from?” they kept asking again and again. “You must not chatter before the ṛṣis,” Kṛṣṇa said, and shut their mouths. The ṛṣis performed their sandhyāvandana and ate that rice. “Kṛṣṇa! Who cooked this?” they asked. “My mother Yaśodā,” Kṛṣṇa replied, and “Never have we eaten such delicious rice,” they said, delighted.
Divine Līlās Are Wondrous
Brahmā kept watching these wondrous līlās Kṛṣṇa was performing. He was astonished. One day the cowherd boys took the cows to the forest as usual. As they played and sang there with Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, lost in joy, Brahmā, wishing to see Kṛṣṇa's glory, made those cows and cowherd boys vanish. Not a single cow, not a single cowherd boy, could be seen anywhere around. Finding out that this was Brahmā's doing, Kṛṣṇa at once, by His divine will, created those very cowherd boys and cows. Exactly alike: the same forms, the same natures. Those illusory cowherd boys took their own cows and went back home. In love and in conduct, the parents found no difference at all in their sons. So they took them to be their own sons. Every day, at the break of dawn, the cowherd boys taking their cows out to graze, coming back by evening... In this way all their affairs went on as usual. Thus a year went by. How wondrous are the līlās of God! On this very account the Bhāgavatam says: