Chapter Chapter 5 · PATTYPANS

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Chapter 5. PATTYPANS

“What's the matter, Daisy?”

“The boys won't let me play with them.”

“Why not?”

“They say girls can't play football.”

“They can, for I've done it!” and Mrs. Bhaer laughed at the remembrance

of certain youthful frolics.

“I know I can play; Demi and I used to, and have nice times, but he

won't let me now because the other boys laugh at him,” and Daisy looked

deeply grieved at her brother's hardness of heart.

“On the whole, I think he is right, deary. It's all very well when you

two are alone, but it is too rough a game for you with a dozen boys; so

I'd find some nice little play for myself.”

“I'm tired of playing alone!” and Daisy's tone was very mournful.

“I'll play with you by and by, but just now I must fly about and get

things ready for a trip into town. You shall go with me and see mamma,

and if you like you can stay with her.”

“I should like to go and see her and Baby Josy, but I'd rather come

back, please. Demi would miss me, and I love to be here, Aunty.”

“You can't get on without your Demi, can you?” and Aunt Jo looked as if

she quite understood the love of the little girl for her only brother.

“'Course I can't; we're twins, and so we love each other more than other

people,” answered Daisy, with a brightening face, for she considered

being a twin one of the highest honors she could ever receive.

“Now, what will you do with your little self while I fly around?” asked

Mrs. Bhaer, who was whisking piles of linen into a wardrobe with great

rapidity.

“I don't know, I'm tired of dolls and things; I wish you'd make up a new

play for me, Aunty Jo,” said Daisy, swinging listlessly on the door.

“I shall have to think of a brand new one, and it will take me some

time; so suppose you go down and see what Asia has got for your lunch,”

suggested Mrs. Bhaer, thinking that would be a good way in which to

dispose of the little hindrance for a time.

“Yes, I think I'd like that, if she isn't cross,” and Daisy slowly

departed to the kitchen, where Asia, the black cook, reigned

undisturbed.

In five minutes, Daisy was back again, with a wide-awake face, a bit of

dough in her hand and a dab of flour on her little nose.

“Oh aunty! Please could I go and make gingersnaps and things? Asia isn't

cross, and she says I may, and it would be such fun, please do,” cried

Daisy, all in one breath.

“Just the thing, go and welcome, make what you like, and stay as long as

you please,” answered Mrs. Bhaer, much relieved, for sometimes the one

little girl was harder to amuse than the dozen boys.

Daisy ran off, and while she worked, Aunt Jo racked her brain for a

new play. All of a sudden she seemed to have an idea, for she smiled

to herself, slammed the doors of the wardrobe, and walked briskly away,

saying, “I'll do it, if it's a possible thing!”

What it was no one found out that day, but Aunt Jo's eyes twinkled so

when she told Daisy she had thought of a new play, and was going to buy

it, that Daisy was much excited and asked questions all the way into

town, without getting answers that told her anything. She was left at

home to play with the new baby, and delight her mother's eyes, while

Aunt Jo went off shopping. When she came back with all sorts of queer

parcels in corners of the carry-all, Daisy was so full of curiosity that

she wanted to go back to Plumfield at once. But her aunt would not be

hurried, and made a long call in mamma's room, sitting on the floor with

baby in her lap, making Mrs. Brooke laugh at the pranks of the boys, and

all sorts of droll nonsense.

How her aunt told the secret Daisy could not imagine, but her mother

evidently knew it, for she said, as she tied on the little bonnet and

kissed the rosy little face inside, “Be a good child, my Daisy, and

learn the nice new play aunty has got for you. It's a most useful and

interesting one, and it is very kind of her to play it with you, because

she does not like it very well herself.”

This last speech made the two ladies laugh heartily, and increased

Daisy's bewilderment. As they drove away something rattled in the back

of the carriage.

“What's that?” asked Daisy, pricking up her ears.

“The new play,” answered Mrs. Jo, solemnly.

“What is it made of?” cried Daisy.

“Iron, tin, wood, brass, sugar, salt, coal, and a hundred other things.”

“How strange! What color is it?”

“All sorts of colors.”

“Is it large?”

“Part of it is, and a part isn't.”

“Did I ever see one?”

“Ever so many, but never one so nice as this.”

“Oh! what can it be? I can't wait. When shall I see it?” and Daisy

bounced up and down with impatience.

“To-morrow morning, after lessons.”

“Is it for the boys, too?”

“No, all for you and Bess. The boys will like to see it, and want to

play one part of it. But you can do as you like about letting them.”

“I'll let Demi, if he wants to.”

“No fear that they won't all want to, especially Stuffy,” and Mrs.

Bhaer's eyes twinkled more than ever as she patted a queer knobby bundle

in her lap.

“Let me feel just once,” prayed Daisy.

“Not a feel; you'd guess in a minute and spoil the fun.”

Daisy groaned and then smiled all over her face, for through a little

hole in the paper she caught a glimpse of something bright.

“How can I wait so long? Couldn't I see it today?”

“Oh dear, no! It has got to be arranged, and ever so many parts fixed in

their places. I promised Uncle Teddy that you shouldn't see it till it

was all in apple-pie order.”

“If uncle knows about it then it must be splendid!” cried Daisy,

clapping her hands; for this kind, rich, jolly uncle of hers was as

good as a fairy godmother to the children, and was always planning merry

surprises, pretty gifts, and droll amusements for them.

“Yes; Teddy went and bought it with me, and we had such fun in the shop

choosing the different parts. He would have everything fine and large,

and my little plan got regularly splendid when he took hold. You must

give him your very best kiss when he comes, for he is the kindest uncle

that ever went and bought a charming little coo Bless me! I nearly told

you what it was!” and Mrs. Bhaer cut that most interesting word short

off in the middle, and began to look over her bills, as if afraid she

would let the cat out of the bag if she talked any more. Daisy folded

her hands with an air of resignation, and sat quite still trying to

think what play had a “coo” in it.

When they got home she eyed every bundle that was taken out, and one

large heavy one, which Franz took straight upstairs and hid in the

nursery, filled her with amazement and curiosity. Something very

mysterious went on up there that afternoon, for Franz was hammering,

and Asia trotting up and down, and Aunt Jo flying around like a

will-o'-the-wisp, with all sort of things under her apron, while little

Ted, who was the only child admitted, because he couldn't talk plain,

babbled and laughed, and tried to tell what the “sumpin pitty” was.

All this made Daisy half-wild, and her excitement spread among the boys,

who quite overwhelmed Mother Bhaer with offers of assistance, which she

declined by quoting their own words to Daisy:

“Girls can't play with boys. This is for Daisy, and Bess, and me, so

we don't want you.” Whereupon the young gentlemen meekly retired, and

invited Daisy to a game of marbles, horse, football, anything she liked,

with a sudden warmth and politeness which astonished her innocent little

soul.

Thanks to these attentions, she got through the afternoon, went early

to bed, and next morning did her lessons with an energy which made Uncle

Fritz wish that a new game could be invented every day. Quite a thrill

pervaded the school-room when Daisy was dismissed at eleven o'clock,

for everyone knew that now she was going to have the new and mysterious

play.

Many eyes followed her as she ran away, and Demi's mind was so

distracted by this event that when Franz asked him where the desert

of Sahara was, he mournfully replied, “In the nursery,” and the whole

school laughed at him.

“Aunt Jo, I've done all my lessons, and I can't wait one single minute

more!” cried Daisy, flying into Mrs. Bhaer's room.

“It's all ready, come on;” and tucking Ted under one arm, and her

workbasket under the other, Aunt Jo promptly led the way upstairs.

“I don't see anything,” said Daisy, staring about her as she got inside

the nursery door.

“Do you hear anything?” asked Aunt Jo, catching Ted back by his little

frock as he was making straight for one side of the room.

Daisy did hear an odd crackling, and then a purry little sound as of a

kettle singing. These noises came from behind a curtain drawn before a

deep bay window. Daisy snatched it back, gave one joyful, “Oh!” and then

stood gazing with delight at what do you think?

A wide seat ran round the three sides of the window; on one side hung

and stood all sorts of little pots and pans, gridirons and skillets;

on the other side a small dinner and tea set; and on the middle part a

cooking-stove. Not a tin one, that was of no use, but a real iron stove,

big enough to cook for a large family of very hungry dolls. But the best

of it was that a real fire burned in it, real steam came out of the

nose of the little tea-kettle, and the lid of the little boiler actually

danced a jig, the water inside bubbled so hard. A pane of glass had

been taken out and replaced by a sheet of tin, with a hole for the small

funnel, and real smoke went sailing away outside so naturally, that it

did one's heart good to see it. The box of wood with a hod of charcoal

stood near by; just above hung dust-pan, brush and broom; a little

market basket was on the low table at which Daisy used to play, and over

the back of her little chair hung a white apron with a bib, and a droll

mob cap. The sun shone in as if he enjoyed the fun, the little stove

roared beautifully, the kettle steamed, the new tins sparkled on the

walls, the pretty china stood in tempting rows, and it was altogether as

cheery and complete a kitchen as any child could desire.

Daisy stood quite still after the first glad “Oh!” but her eyes went

quickly from one charming object to another, brightening as they looked,

till they came to Aunt Jo's merry face; there they stopped as the happy

little girl hugged her, saying gratefully:

“Oh aunty, it's a splendid new play! Can I really cook at the dear

stove, and have parties and mess, and sweep, and make fires that truly

burn? I like it so much! What made you think of it?”

“Your liking to make gingersnaps with Asia made me think of it,” said

Mrs. Bhaer, holding Daisy, who frisked as if she would fly. “I knew Asia

wouldn't let you mess in her kitchen very often, and it wouldn't be

safe at this fire up here, so I thought I'd see if I could find a little

stove for you, and teach you to cook; that would be fun, and useful too.

So I travelled round among the toy shops, but everything large cost too

much and I was thinking I should have to give it up, when I met Uncle

Teddy. As soon as he knew what I was about, he said he wanted to help,

and insisted on buying the biggest toy stove we could find. I scolded,

but he only laughed, and teased me about my cooking when we were young,

and said I must teach Bess as well as you, and went on buying all sorts

of nice little things for my 'cooking class' as he called it.”

“I'm so glad you met him!” said Daisy, as Mrs. Jo stopped to laugh at

the memory of the funny time she had with Uncle Teddy.

“You must study hard and learn to make all kinds of things, for he says

he shall come out to tea very often, and expects something uncommonly

nice.”

“It's the sweetest, dearest kitchen in the world, and I'd rather

study with it than do anything else. Can't I learn pies, and cake, and

macaroni, and everything?” cried Daisy, dancing round the room with a

new saucepan in one hand and the tiny poker in the other.

“All in good time. This is to be a useful play, I am to help you, and

you are to be my cook, so I shall tell you what to do, and show you how.

Then we shall have things fit to eat, and you will be really learning

how to cook on a small scale. I'll call you Sally, and say 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 in the new

play as Daisy herself.

“Oh, what next?” asked Sally, all impatience to begin.

“Shut the lower draught of the stove, so that the oven may heat.

Then wash your hands and get out the flour, sugar, salt, butter, and

cinnamon. See if the pie-board is clean, and pare your apple ready to

put in.”

Daisy got things together with as little noise and spilling as could be

expected, from so young a cook.

“I really don't know how to measure for such tiny pies; I must guess

at it, and if these don't succeed, we must try again,” said Mrs. Jo,

looking rather perplexed, and very much amused with the small concern

before her. “Take that little pan full of flour, put in a pinch of salt,

and then rub in as much butter as will go on that plate. Always remember

to put your dry things together first, and then the wet. It mixes better

so.”

“I know how; I saw Asia do it. Don't I butter the pie plates too? She

did, the first thing,” said Daisy, whisking the flour about at a great

rate.

“Quite right! I do believe you have a gift for cooking, you take to it

so cleverly,” said Aunt Jo, approvingly. “Now a dash of cold water,

just enough to wet it; then scatter some flour on the board, work in

a little, and roll the paste out; yes, that's the way. Now put dabs of

butter all over it, and roll it out again. We won't have our pastry very

rich, or the dolls will get dyspeptic.”

Daisy laughed at the idea, and scattered the dabs with a liberal hand.

Then she rolled and rolled with her delightful little pin, and having

got her paste ready proceeded to cover the plates with it. Next the

apple was sliced in, sugar and cinnamon lavishly sprinkled over it, and

then the top crust put on with breathless care.

“I always wanted to cut them round, and Asia never would let me. How

nice it is to do it all my ownty donty self!” said Daisy, as the little

knife went clipping round the doll's plate poised on her hand.

All cooks, even the best, meet with mishaps sometimes, and Sally's first

one occurred then, for the knife went so fast that the plate slipped,

turned a somersault in the air, and landed the dear little pie upside

down on the floor. Sally screamed, Mrs. Jo laughed, Teddy scrambled to

get it, and for a moment confusion reigned in the new kitchen.

“It didn't spill or break, because I pinched the edges together so hard;

it isn't hurt a bit, so I'll prick holes in it, and then it will be

ready,” said Sally, picking up the capsized treasure and putting it into

shape with a child-like disregard of the dust it had gathered in its

fall.

“My new cook has a good temper, I see, and that is such a comfort,” said

Mrs. Jo. “Now open the jar of strawberry jam, fill the uncovered pie,

and put some strips of paste over the top as Asia does.”

“I'll make a D in the middle, and have zigzags all round, that will be

so interesting when I come to eat it,” said Sally, loading the pie with

quirls and flourishes that would have driven a real pastry cook wild.

“Now I put them in!” she exclaimed; when the last grimy knob had been

carefully planted in the red field of jam, and with an air of triumph

she shut them into the little oven.

“Clear up your things; a good cook never lets her utensils collect. Then

pare your squash and potatoes.”

“There is only one potato,” giggled Sally.

“Cut it in four pieces, so it will go into the little kettle, and put

the bits into cold water till it is time to cook them.”

“Do I soak the squash too?”

“No, indeed! Just pare it and cut it up, and put in into the steamer

over the pot. It is drier so, though it takes longer to cook.”

Here a scratching at the door caused Sally to run and open it, when 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 larger tables than this, and did the honors with an

air of innocent satisfaction, which we do not often see elsewhere.

The steak was so tough that the little carving-knife would not cut it;

the potato did not go round, and the squash was very lumpy; but the

guests appeared politely unconscious of these trifles; and the master

and mistress of the house cleared the table with appetites that anyone

might envy them. The joy of skimming a jug-full of cream mitigated the

anguish felt for the loss of the pies, and Asia's despised cake proved a

treasure in the way of dessert.

“That is the nicest lunch I ever had; can't I do it every day?” asked

Daisy as she scraped up and ate the leavings all round.

“You can cook things every day after lessons, but I prefer that you

should eat your dishes at your regular meals, and only have a bit of

gingerbread for lunch. To-day, being the first time, I don't mind, but

we must keep our rules. This afternoon you can make something for tea

if you like,” said Mrs. Jo, who had enjoyed the dinner-party very much,

though no one had invited her to partake.

“Do let me make flapjacks for Demi, he loves them so, and it's such fun

to turn them and put sugar in between,” cried Daisy, tenderly wiping a

yellow stain off Annabella's broken nose, for Bella had refused to eat

squash when it was pressed upon her as good for “lumatism,” a complaint

which it is no wonder she suffered from, considering the lightness of

her attire.

“But if you give Demi goodies, all the others will expect some also, and

then you will have your hands full.”

“Couldn't I have Demi come up to tea alone just this one time? And after

that I could cook things for the others if they were good,” proposed

Daisy, with a sudden inspiration.

“That is a capital idea, Posy! We will make your little messes rewards

for the good boys, and I don't know one among them who would not like

something nice to eat more than almost anything else. If little men are

like big ones, good cooking will touch their hearts and soothe their

tempers delightfully,” added Aunt Jo, with a merry nod toward the

door, where stood Papa Bhaer, surveying the scene with a face full of

amusement.

“That last hit was for me, sharp woman. I accept it, for it is true; but

if I had married thee for thy cooking, heart's dearest, I should have

fared badly all these years,” answered the professor, laughing as he

tossed Teddy, who became quite apoplectic in his endeavors to describe

the feast he had just enjoyed.

Daisy proudly showed her kitchen, and rashly promised Uncle Fritz as

many flapjacks as he could eat. She was just telling about the new

rewards when the boys, headed by Demi, burst into the room snuffing the

air like a pack of hungry hounds, for school was out, dinner was not

ready, and the fragrance of Daisy's steak led them straight to the spot.

A prouder little damsel was never seen than Sally as she displayed her

treasures and told the lads what was in store for them. Several rather

scoffed at the idea of her cooking anything fit to eat, but Stuffy's

heart was won at once. Nat and Demi had firm faith in her skill, and the

others said they would wait and see. All admired the kitchen, however,

and examined the stove with deep interest. Demi offered to buy

the boiler on the spot, to be used in a steam-engine which he was

constructing; and Ned declared that the best and biggest saucepan was

just the thing to melt his lead in when he ran bullets, hatchets, and

such trifles.

Daisy looked so alarmed at these proposals, that Mrs. Jo then and

there made and proclaimed a law that no boy should touch, use, or

even approach the sacred stove without a special permit from the

owner thereof. This increased its value immensely in the eyes of the

gentlemen, especially as any infringement of the law would be punished

by forfeiture of all right to partake of the delicacies promised to the

virtuous.

At this point the bell rang, and the entire population went down to

dinner, which meal was enlivened by each of the boys giving Daisy a

list of things he would like to have cooked for him as fast as he

earned them. Daisy, whose faith in her stove was unlimited, promised

everything, if Aunt Jo would tell her how to make them. This suggestion

rather alarmed Mrs. Jo, for some of the dishes were quite beyond her

skill wedding-cake, for instance, bull's-eye candy; and cabbage soup

with herrings and cherries in it, which Mr. Bhaer proposed as his

favorite, and immediately reduced his wife to despair, for German

cookery was beyond her.

Daisy wanted to begin again the minute dinner was done, but she was only

allowed to clear up, fill the kettle ready for tea, and wash out her

apron, which looked as if she had a Christmas feast. She was then sent

out to play till five o'clock, for Uncle Fritz said that too much study,

even at cooking stoves, was bad for little minds and bodies, and Aunt Jo

knew by long experience how soon new toys lose their charm if they are

not prudently used.

Everyone was very kind to Daisy that afternoon. Tommy promised her the

first fruits of his garden, though the only visible crop just then was

pigweed; Nat offered to supply her with wood, free of charge; Stuffy

quite worshipped her; Ned immediately fell to work on a little

refrigerator for her kitchen; and Demi, with a punctuality beautiful

to see in one so young, escorted her to the nursery just as the clock

struck five. It was not time for the party to begin, but he begged so

hard to come in and help that he was allowed privileges few visitors

enjoy, for he kindled the fire, ran errands, and watched the progress

of his supper with intense interest. Mrs. Jo directed the affair as she

came and went, being very busy putting up clean curtains all over the

house.

“Ask Asia for a cup of sour cream, then your cakes will be light without

much soda, which I don't like,” was the first order.

Demi tore downstairs, and returned with the cream, also a puckered-up

face, for he had tasted it on his way, and found it so sour that he

predicted the cakes would be uneatable. Mrs. Jo took this occasion to

deliver a short lecture from the step-ladder on the chemical properties

of soda, to which Daisy did not listen, but Demi did, and understood it,

as he proved by the brief but comprehensive reply:

“Yes, I see, soda turns sour things sweet, and the fizzling up makes

them light. Let's see you do it, Daisy.”

“Fill that bowl nearly full of flour and add a little salt to it,”

continued Mrs. Jo.

“Oh dear, everything has to have salt in it, seems to me,” said Sally,

who was tired of opening the pill-box in which it was kept.

“Salt is like good-humor, and nearly every thing is better for a pinch

of it, Posy,” and Uncle Fritz stopped as he passed, hammer in hand, to

drive up two or three nails for Sally's little pans to hang on.

“You are not invited to tea, but I'll give you some cakes, and I won't

be cross,” said Daisy, putting up her floury little face to thank him

with a kiss.

“Fritz, you must not interrupt my cooking class, or I'll come in and

moralize when you are teaching Latin. How would you like that?” said

Mrs. Jo, throwing a great chintz curtain down on his head.

“Very much, try it and see,” and the amiable Father Bhaer went singing

and tapping about the house like a mammoth woodpecker.

“Put the soda into the cream, and when it 'fizzles,' as Demi says, stir

it into the flour, and beat it up as hard as ever you can. Have your

griddle hot, butter it well, and then fry away till I come back,” and

Aunt Jo vanished also.

Such a clatter as the little spoon made, and such a beating as the

batter got, it quite foamed, I assure you; and when Daisy poured some

on to the griddle, it rose like magic into a puffy flapjack that made

Demi's mouth water. To be sure, the first one stuck and scorched,

because she forgot the butter, but after that first failure all went

well, and six capital little cakes were safely landed in a dish.

“I think I like maple-syrup better than sugar,” said Demi, from his

arm-chair where he had settled himself after setting the table in a new

and peculiar manner.

“Then go and ask Asia for some,” answered Daisy, going into the

bath-room to wash her hands.

While the nursery was empty something dreadful happened. You see, Kit

had been feeling hurt all day because he had carried meat safely and yet

got none to pay him. He was not a bad dog, but he had his little faults

like the rest of us, and could not always resist temptation. Happening

to stroll into the nursery at that moment, he smelt the cakes, saw them

unguarded on the low table, and never stopping to think of consequences,

swallowed all six at one mouthful. I am glad to say that they were very

hot, and burned him so badly that he could not repress a surprised yelp.

Daisy heard it, ran in, saw the empty dish, also the end of a yellow

tail disappearing under the bed. Without a word she seized that tail,

pulled out the thief, and shook him till his ears flapped wildly, then

bundled him down-stairs to the shed, where he spent a lonely evening in

the coal-bin.

Cheered by the sympathy which Demi gave her, Daisy made another bowlful

of batter, and fried a dozen cakes, which were even better than the

others. Indeed, Uncle Fritz after eating two sent up word that he had

never tasted any so nice, and every boy at the table below envied Demi

at the flapjack party above.

It was a truly delightful supper, for the little teapot lid only fell

off three times and the milk jug upset but once; the cakes floated in

syrup, and the toast had a delicious beef-steak flavor, owing to cook's

using the gridiron to make it on. Demi forgot philosophy, and stuffed

like any carnal boy, while Daisy planned sumptuous banquets, and the

dolls looked on smiling affably.

“Well, dearies, have you had a good time?” asked Mrs. Jo, coming up with

Teddy on her shoulder.

“A very good time. I shall come again soon,” answered Demi, with

emphasis.

“I'm afraid you have eaten too much, by the look of that table.”

“No, I haven't; I only ate fifteen cakes, and they were very little

ones,” protested Demi, who had kept his sister busy supplying his plate.

“They won't hurt him, they are so nice,” said Daisy, with such a funny

mixture of maternal fondness and housewifely pride that Aunt Jo could

only smile and say:

“Well, on the whole, the new game is a success then?”

“I like it,” said Demi, as if his approval was all that was necessary.

“It is the dearest play ever made!” cried Daisy, hugging her little

dish-tub as she proposed to wash up the cups. “I just wish everybody

had a sweet cooking stove like mine,” she added, regarding it with

affection.

“This play out to have a name,” said Demi, gravely removing the syrup

from his countenance with his tongue.

“It has.”

“Oh, what?” asked both children eagerly.

“Well, I think we will call it Pattypans,” and Aunt Jo retired,

satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.