Kit appeared with a covered basket in his mouth.
“Here’s the butcher boy!” cried Daisy, much tickled at the idea, as
she relieved him of his load, whereat he licked his lips and began
to beg, evidently thinking that it was his own dinner, for he often
carried it to his master in that way. Being undeceived, he departed
in great wrath and barked all the way downstairs, to ease his
wounded feelings.
In the basket were two bits of steak (doll’s pounds), a baked pear, a
small cake, and paper with them on which Asia had scrawled, “For
Missy’s lunch, if her cookin’ don’t turn out well.”
“I don’t want any of her old pears and things; my cooking will turn
out well, and I’ll have a splendid dinner; see if I don’t!” cried
Daisy, indignantly.
“We may like them if company should come. It is always well to
have something in the storeroom,” said Aunt Jo, who had been
taught this valuable fact by a series of domestic panics.
“Me is hundry,” announced Teddy, who began to think what with
so much cooking going on it was about time for somebody to eat
something. His mother gave him her workbasket to rummage,
hoping to keep him quiet till dinner was ready, and returned to her
housekeeping.
“Put on your vegetables, set the table, and then have some coals
kindling ready for the steak.”
What a thing it was to see the potatoes bobbing about in the little
pot; to peep at the squash getting soft so fast in the tiny steamer; to
whisk open the oven door every five minutes to see how the pies
got on, and at last when the coals were red and glowing, to put two
real steaks on a finger-long gridiron and proudly turn them with a
fork. The potatoes were done first, and no wonder, for they had
boiled frantically all the while. The were pounded up with a little
pestle, had much butter and no salt put in (cook forgot it in the
excitement of the moment), then it was made into a mound in a
gay red dish, smoothed over with a knife dipped in milk, and put in
the oven to brown.
So absorbed in these last performances had Sally been, that she
forgot her pastry till she opened the door to put in the potato, then
a wail arose, for alas! alas! the little pies were burnt black!
“Oh, my pies! My darling pies! They are all spoilt!” cried poor
Sally, wringing her dirty little hands as she surveyed the ruin of her
work. The tart was especially pathetic, for the quirls and zigzags
stuck up in all directions from the blackened jelly, like the walls
and chimney of a house after a fire.
“Dear, dear, I forgot to remind you to take them out; it’s just my
luck,” said Aunt Jo, remorsefully. “Don’t cry, darling, it was my
fault; we’ll try again after dinner,” she added, as a great tear
dropped from Sally’s eyes and sizzled on the hot ruins of the tart.
More would have followed, if the steak had not blazed up just
then, and so occupied the attention of cook, that she quickly forgot
the lost pastry.
“Put the meat-dish and your own plates down to warm, while you
mash the squash with butter, salt, and a little pepper on the top,”
said Mrs. Jo, devoutly hoping that the dinner would meet with no
further disasters.
The “cunning pepper-pot” soothed Sally’s feelings, and she dished
up her squash in fine style. The dinner was safely put upon the
table; the six dolls were seated three on a side; Teddy took the
bottom, and Sally the top. When all were settled, it was a most
imposing spectacle, for one doll was in full ball costume, another
in her night-gown; Jerry, the worsted boy, wore his red winter suit,
while Annabella, the noseless darling, was airily attired in nothing
but her own kid skin. Teddy, as father of the family, behaved with
great propriety, for he smilingly devoured everything offered him,
and did not find a single fault. Daisy beamed upon her company
like the weary, warm, but hospitable hostess so often to be seen at