you are a new girl just come,” added Mrs. Jo, settling down to
work, while Teddy sat on the floor sucking his thumb, and staring
at the stove as if it was a live thing, whose appearance deeply
interested him.
“That will be so lovely! What shall I do first?” asked Sally, with
such a happy face and willing air that Aunt Jo wished all new
cooks were half as pretty and pleasant.
“First of all, put on this clean cap and apron. I am rather
old-fashioned, and I like my cook to be very tidy.”
Sally tucked her curly hair into the round cap, and put on the apron
without a murmur, though usually she rebelled against bibs.
“Now, you can put things in order, and wash up the new china. The
old set needs washing also, for my last girl was apt to leave it in a
sad state after a party.”
Aunt Jo spoke quite soberly, but Sally laughed, for she knew who
the untidy girl was who had left the cups sticky. Then she turned
up her cuffs, and with a sigh of satisfaction began to stir about her
kitchen, having little raptures now and then over the “sweet rolling
pin,” the “darling dish-tub,” or the “cunning pepper-pot.”
“Now, Sally, take your basket and go to market; here is the list of
things I want for dinner,” said Mrs. Jo, giving her a bit of paper
when the dishes were all in order.
“Where is the market?” asked Daisy, thinking that the new play got
more and more interesting every minute.
“Asia is the market.”
Away went Sally, causing another stir in the schoolroom as she
passed the door in her new costume, and whispered to Demi, with
a face full of delight, “It’s a perfectly splendid play!”
Old Asia enjoyed the joke as much as Daisy, and laughed jollily as
the little girl came flying into the room with her cap all on one
side, the lids of her basket rattling like castanets and looking like a
very crazy little cook.
“Mrs. Aunt Jo wants these things, and I must have them right
away,” said Daisy, importantly.
‘Let’s see, honey; here’s two pounds of steak, potatoes, squash,
apples, bread, and butter. The meat ain’t come yet; when it does I’ll
send it up. The other things are all handy.”
Then Asia packed one potato, one apple, a bit of squash, a little pat
of butter, and a roll, into the basket, telling Sally to be on the
watch for the butcher’s boy, because he sometimes played tricks.
“Who is he?” and Daisy hoped it would be Demi.
“You’ll see,” was all Asia would say; and Sally went off in great
spirits, singing a verse from dear Mary Howitt’s sweet story in
rhyme:
“Away went little Mabel,
With the wheaten cake so fine,
The new-made pot of butter,
And the little flask of wine.”
“Put everything but the apple into the store-closet for the present,”
said Mrs. Jo, when the cook got home.
There was a cupboard under the middle shelf, and on opening the
door fresh delights appeared. One half was evidently the cellar, for
wood, coal, and kindlings were piled there. The other half was full
of little jars, boxes, and all sorts of droll contrivances for holding
small quantities of flour, meal, sugar, salt, and other household
stores. A pot of jam was there, a little tin box of gingerbread, a
cologne bottle full of currant wine, and a tiny canister of tea. But
the crowning charm was two doll’s pans of new milk, with cream
actually rising on it, and a wee skimmer all ready to skim it with.
Daisy clasped her hands at this delicious spectacle, and wanted to
skim it immediately. But Aunt Jo said:
“Not yet; you will want the cream to eat on your apple pie at
dinner, and must not disturb it till then.”
“Am I going to have pie?” cried Daisy, hardly believing that such
bliss could be in store for her.
“Yes; if your oven does well we will have two pies, one apple and
one strawberry,” said Mrs. Jo, who was nearly as much interested