Flowers
"Ha, ha!" laughed Brother, and Mary Frances, somehow, couldn't explain about the Kitchen Folks.
Instead, "When does Aunt Maria come?" she asked. "Does she come to-night?"
"She's coming right over," answered her brother.
"Oh, oh!" thought Mary Frances, "I must warn the Kitchen People."
"Brother," she began, nervously, "you stay with Mother—I want to take these things down."
But Brother was already sitting quietly near Mother, and Mary Frances hurried softly downstairs.
"The poor dears! The poor dears!" she kept whispering all the way down.
"Milk Toast! the only think I could eat! why—who made it?"
MARY FRANCES WARNS THE KITCHEN FOLKS
Then he bragged
TO the kitchen door she ran, and was about to rush out, when she thought she heard voices—thin, little voices they were—so she peeped out, for the door was ajar,—and this is what she saw:
Toaster Man, all tired out, was leaning back in a chair, snoring softly; but all the other Kitchen People were wide awake. It was Tea Kettle that was speaking:
"So, he put the eight feathers in a pan, and cooked them——"
"Who did?" asked Sauce Pan.
"The Jack Rabbit—and then he ate their fringe all off, and gave the bones to the cat. Then he bragged—he bragged that he'd eaten eight whole chickens at once."
"Is that all?" asked Sauce Pan.
"Yes," said Tea Kettle.
"Humph!" said Sauce Pan. "Was that his recipe for Fried Chicken?"
Toaster Man all tired out.
"A Little Cap and Apron!" cried Mary Frances.
Dish
"My, I'd love to hear more about the Jack Rabbit,"thought Mary Frances, "but I must warn them about Aunt Maria"; and she hurried out into the kitchen.
"Listen!" she whispered, with upraised finger. "Listen!—Mother is going away, and Aunt Maria's coming over to keep house. Don't ever say a word—she'll never understand you, and she'll scrub and scour you till you ache, poor things!—she'll do that anyway, but don't talk before her. I hurried down to warn you—I was so afraid you might."
"Never fear," spoke up Tea Kettle; "we never, never talk before 'grown-ups'—we can't help them. I forgot to tell you—if you speak about us to anyone, we can never, never speak again."
"Oh," said Mary Frances, "it's a secret! I'm so glad you told me—I came so near telling Mother about Toaster Man—I might have, only——"
Then the door-bell rang.
"She'll scrub and scour you till you ache, poor things!"
AUNT MARIA
"FOR the land's sakes!" cried Aunt Maria. "For the land's sakes! Where in the world has that child been? Look at those hands! Have you been playing in the coal?"
"Who showed you how?"
"N-no-body."
"I put coal on the fire," said Mary Frances.
"I guess I'll take a look at that fire, myself," Aunt Maria continued, as she started toward the kitchen.
Just then, she caught sight of the tray which Mary Frances had brought downstairs.
"Milk Toast," she sniffed. "Who sent that in?"
"I—I made it," Mary Frances began.
There was one tiny piece left. Aunt Maria looked at it hard.
"It's wonderful," she said, "wonderful; who showed you how?"
"Who showed you how?" she demanded, as Mary Frances stood silent.
"N-no-body,—at least, no real person. I read about how to make it in my cook book."
stovepipestove
"Yourcook book—you mean yourmother'scook book."
book
"No," said Mary Frances, "I mean my cook book Mother's been making for me. I'll show it to you," and she ran to get it. "See!—in Mother's writing—'Mary Frances' First Cook Book!'"
"Well," said Aunt Maria, "you may turn out of some account, after all. It's about time to call for a ref-or-ma-tion."
"Yes, ma'am," said Mary Frances, not un-der-stand-ing the big word—"do you want me to call for it now?"
"Don't be saucy!" snapped the old lady.
Then she set about washing the little girl's hands and face, rubbing so hard that it made the tears come, finishing off with the towel until Mary Frances felt her face shine.
"Wonder if she thinks I'm a stove," she thought. "Maybe she'll black me some day by mistake! I don't believe she knows how old I am—she treats me like a baby, for all the world sometimes, yet she thinks I ought to know more. Queer!"
While Aunt Maria was busy getting dinner, she ran up to her mother's room.
"Mother," she asked, "Aunt Maria will be gone home most of the day time, while you're away, won't she?"
"Yes, dear," said Mother; "you and Brother are to go to her house to lunch."
"Mother, dear," begged Mary Frances, "can't I get lunch for Brother and me? I was going to tell you I read—I found the recipe for the Milk Toast in my little cook book you've been making for me. I came up and found it while you were asleep—I just know I can get our lunches. Please, Mother, can't I try?"
"Well, dear," said Mother, smiling, "I really believe you may. I've just been thinking about the toast, and what a woman my dear little girl is."
Just then Aunt Maria called:
"Dinner!"
Washing the little girl's hands and face.
JACKET-BOILED POTATOES
"Good-bye!"
"GOOD-BYE, Billy! Take good care of Sister. Good-bye, little Housekeeper!" said Mother, leaning from the car window. The children waved "good-bye," and watched the train until it was a speck in the distance.
"I'm off to the mill-race, with the boys, Sister,—catch!" cried Billy, tossing Mary Frances the key.
"All right," she called, "be sure to come home to lunch—twelve o'clock."
Mary Frances suddenly felt very lonesome.
"But I'll go home to my Kitchen Folks—they'll be good company," she thought.
When she let herself into the house, how big and empty it seemed! She was almost afraid to go in, but she bravely locked the door behind her.
"Good-bye!" "Good-bye!"
She thought she heard a noise. Surely the curtain moved! Her heart went pit-a-pat! The curtain moved again. Out sprang Jubey, and scampered off into the kitchen.
"Oh, you darling kitten!" she cried, running after her. "How you scared me, Jubey!"
"How you scared me, Jubey!"
Everything was as neat as a pin. All the Kitchen Folks were in their places, prim, and quiet, and scared, just as Aunt Maria had left them, but when they saw her they brightened up, and smiled a welcome.
"How do you do, Kitchen Folks?" she said.
"How do, little Miss?" merrily sang Tea Kettle.
"H-o-w d-o?" ticked Mantel Clock.
"What in the world shall I have for lunch?" mused the little girl. "That boy will be as hungry as two bears,—and I don't know many things to cook yet. Toast is all right for a sick person, but it isn't much for a hungry boy,—and I ought to make something new. Let me see what my little book says," and she fetched it out of its hiding place.
As hungry as two bears.
"Oh, I know! I'll make everything! I do hope I get through the book before Mother comes back! Let's see,—here's 'How to Cook Potatoes,' and 'Eggs'; here are 'Biscuits,' and even how to make 'Tarts' and 'Cakes,'—and Goody! Candy! Oh, how I'd love to make candy right away, but Mother said I must makethe things in the order they come in the book. So to-day I make
No. 4.—Jacket-boiled Potatoes.
1. Scrub rather small potatoes well.2. Pare a ring around each the long way; drop into cold water.3. Drain; cover with boiling water; add 1 tablespoon salt.4. Let boil about 35 minutes, or until a fork will easily pierce the largest.5. Drain off all the water, and set pan at back of stove to dry off the potatoes.6. Serve in their jackets.
1. Scrub rather small potatoes well.
2. Pare a ring around each the long way; drop into cold water.
3. Drain; cover with boiling water; add 1 tablespoon salt.
4. Let boil about 35 minutes, or until a fork will easily pierce the largest.
5. Drain off all the water, and set pan at back of stove to dry off the potatoes.
6. Serve in their jackets.
Jacket boiled potatoes
"I wonder how many Billy will eat," she thought, as she brought the basket. "I guess about—about—I don't know. He has an e-nor-mous appetite. I guess I'll cook a hundred."
"He'll never eat a hundred!"
"He'll never eat a hundred."
Mary Frances looked around. Boiler Pan was climbing down from the closet shelf.
"Hello! How do you know?" asked Mary Frances. "You never saw him eat."
"Hear that! Hear that!" cried Boiler Pan. "As though I hadn't cooked potatoes before you were born.Eat a hundred? Why, I can't hold a hundred—so there!"
"Ho, ho!" said Mary Frances, "that must be so. How many can you hold?"
"Oh, about thirty, I guess," swelling with pride.
"Well," said Mary Frances, "you've no notion how many that boy can eat, and there isn't much else for lunch. I guess I'll cook about twelve,"—and counting them out, she began to wash them.
"Be sure to get all the sand out of their eyes," laughed Boiler Pan. "But first, will you help me jump up on the stove, and fill me?—then I can boil while you're 'ringing' the potatoes."
This done, he was very quiet, while she finished the potatoes.
Just then the clock struck eleven.
The clock struck eleven.
"Why, I must hurry," exclaimed Mary Frances.
"I'm ready," bubbled Boiler Pan.
"Oh, yes, I'm coming," and she dropped the potatoes in one by one.
"Now, put on my hat," said Boiler Pan, and Mary Frances put on the lid.
"Are they all right?" asked the little girl.
Swelling with pride.
"All right!" he answered in a muffled voice.
Mary Frances then went in the dining-room, and busied herself about setting the table.
Soon, she heard a "rumpus" in the kitchen. She ran out. Bubbles were sputtering over the sides of Boiler Pan, and the lid was dancing a jig.
"What shall I do? What shall I do?" cried Mary Frances, jumping up and down.
"This hat's crazy! Take it off, quick!" Boiler Pan besought her.
Without thinking, she seized the lid with her fingers, but dropped it with a cry of pain.
"I'm scalded, I'm scalded," she sobbed. "What will I do for it?" and she ran for some cold water.
"Don't do that, child," said Aunty Rolling Pin. "Butter it and then powder it with baking soda the way your mother does."
"Don't do that child."
"I'm so sorry," said Boiler Pan, "but I really couldn't get my old hat off. I should have told you to take a holder."
"Never mind, it's better now. Those potatoes must be done. Yes," as she tried them with a fork, "eventhe biggest is done in the middle. I'm so glad, for I expect that boy any minute."
"So'm I," said Boiler Pan, "for I feel the effect of this stren-u-os-i-ty."
"This hat's crazy!"
Mary Frances pretended not to notice this speech, but carefully drained the water from the potatoes, and shook Boiler Pan over the fire to dry them off.
"I—I—learned—that—that—wor—word—after year—years—of—stud—study," he said between the shakes, "and you—nev—never—notic—noticed——"
But Billy was knocking.
So Mary Frances, hastily putting Boiler Pan on the back of the stove, ran to let him in.
"Hello, Sister! Here we are! Lunch ready?"
"Hello, Sister."
"Yes, all ready. I'll put it on. You sit in Father's place, and we'll play we're grown up."
"Scrumptious!" exclaimed Billy, as Mary Frances set the smoking dish of potatoes on the table.
"What an excellent cook you must have, Madam," he said, after his first taste. "Such good potatoes!"
"I have ten," said Mary Frances.
"Let's give it to Jubey."
"Ten! You are fortunate, indeed, Madam," saidBilly, for all the world as though he were a grown-up young gentleman. "How quiet they keep."
cat
"Yes," laughed Mary Frances, "but they're 'most always busy," and she held up her ten pink little fingers.
"Oh, Billy," she added earnestly, "I'm so glad you like them—the potatoes, I mean. There is only one left—won't you have that?"
"Oh, let's give that to Jubey—Jubey might be hurt if you didn't let her try them. I would,—if I were Jubey."
"I have ten," said Mary Frances.
THE POT-AND-KETTLE FIGHT
Looked pleased and important.
"GOOD morning, Kitchen People," said Mary Frances, after breakfast next day, "this is a very important morning with me."
The Kitchen People looked pleased and important, too.
"You see, it's this way," she continued as she took her little book and sat in the rocking chair. "I am very anxious to get through every recipe in my cook book before Mother comes home, so I guess we'll just finish all the potato recipes to-day,—and give Billy a Potato Lunch! Won't that be fine?"
The Kitchen People all smiled in approval.
She went to the window.
"O—h, Billy! Billy!" she called; "you're invited to a Potato Lunch in our dining-room at twelve o'clock."
"O—h, Billy!"
"All right, I'll be on time," answered Billy from the garden.
"Let's see," said Mary Frances to herself, "fourmore recipes—about two potatoes each. Four times two,—eight."
She washed the potatoes carefully, and had no sooner set about paring them, than the kitchen door opened, and in walked Aunt Maria.
"What in the world is that child doing? Paring potatoes? Did I ever!—Such thin, close parings, too! How well she does it!—But you must drop them into cold water as soon as they are pared, child. I wish I could stay and show you how to cook, but duty calls me—I must be going!"
"Drop them into cold water."
Mary Frances stepped to the door with her.
"When I was your age, child, I could cook 'most everything and piece patch-work for quilts,"—and she kept Mary Frances on the porch ten minutes, telling her that little girls weren't brought up any more to be useful the way they were when she was a little girl.
* * * * * * *
"Oh, my lid!" sang Tea Kettle, as Mary Frances stepped back into the kitchen. "Oh, my aunt!—has the old lady went?"
"Gone!" said Big Iron Pot from the back of the stove.
"Oh, my aunt!"
"Who dares correct me?" simmered Tea Kettle.
"I dare," sputtered Iron Pot. "I dare,—and I dare tell you other things, too!"
steamkettle
"You do, do you?" bubbled Tea Kettle. "You do! Well, what do you dare tell me?"
"I dare tell you, Mister," said Iron Pot, "that you've got a dirty face—yes, a black face."
Tea Kettle, it was plain to be seen, was boiling mad. Steam blew out of his nose in every direction.
Now, everybody who knows anything about a tea kettle can imagine how very angry Tea Kettle was.
As soon as he could get his breath, he blew steam all over Iron Pot.
"My face is black, is it? Well, yours is black,—and it will soon be black and blue!"
"You swallow them words!" and Iron Pot raised his queer little fists.
"Sput!" mocked Tea Kettle, getting ready to spout again. "Take that!"
Wang! came down the little fist,—but not on the lid of Tea Kettle. Oh, no; for just as that was going to happen, Mary Frances lifted him high in the air.
more steamRolling pin and kettle
"Let go of me! Let me at Iron Pot!" He was at white heat.
"Be quiet!" said Mary Frances, shaking him quite hard. "What's all this about?"
"Iron Pot commenced it!" sullenly simmered Tea Kettle. "Iron Pot called me names!"
"Why," said Mary Frances, "this is disgraceful! Now, you sit there!" She put Tea Kettle on the front of the stove.
"And you, there!" She pulled Big Iron Pot as far back as she could.
"Now, behave yourselves!"
Then she sat down to rest.
"What makes them quarrel so, I wonder," Mary Frances said half to herself. "All the Kitchen People seem so kind and helpful."
"Why, don't you know, child?" asked Aunty Rolling Pin. "I thought everybody knew that story."
A story! Mary Frances was always ready to listen to a story.
"Won't you tell me, please?"
Aunty Rolling Pin cleared her voice, and rolledback an inch or two to a more comfortable place on the table.
"You see, it's this way, child," she began.
"In the days of your great-grandmother there were no stoves, only open fireplaces were used for cooking,—and kettles were just as black then as that old black Pot there.
"So, when the Pot called the Kettle black, the Kettle said:
"'Black yourself!' and no harm was done.
"But when your mother got that fine new cook stove, she bought that bright, shiny Kettle, too.
"But that silly old Pot doesn't know that the new Kettle is bright and shiny, so it keeps on calling names. That Pot doesn't know it's fooling itself,—for all it sees is its own homely old black self in the shiny Kettle making faces.
"And that's what comes of calling names, child," chuckled Aunty Rolling Pin, as she ended her story.
Then Mr. Tea Kettle puffed steam importantly, and clapped his little lid.
Nothing more was said in the kitchen for several seconds.
"Thank you!" at length said Mary Frances gratefully to Aunty Rolling Pin.
Then she added, very firmly and gently to Iron Pot and Tea Kettle:
"I want you to promise me never to call names again, either one of you, for it makes me feel so sad.
"Do you promise?" she asked.
"I promise," brightly answered Tea Kettle.
"I pro-promise," solemnly declared Big Iron Pot.
kettleIn the days of your great grandmotherKettles"Why," said Mary Frances, "this is disgraceful!"
kettle
In the days of your great grandmother
Kettles
"Why," said Mary Frances, "this is disgraceful!"
A POTATO LUNCH
"Yes," chimed in Mantel Clock
"I'M so relieved," said Mary Frances with a sigh.
"Now, I can hurry along the Potato Lunch."
"Yes," chimed in Mantel Clock, "it's quarter past eleven. You have only three-quarters of an hour."
"That's so!" said Mary Frances. "The next recipe is:
No. 5.—Baked Potatoes.
1. Choose potatoes of the same size—rather large.2. Scrub well, and wipe.3. Bake in a hot oven from 30 to 45 minutes, or until soft when pressed between thumb and fingers.4. Roll each between the fingers: this makes them mealy.5. Serve on a napkin.
1. Choose potatoes of the same size—rather large.
2. Scrub well, and wipe.
3. Bake in a hot oven from 30 to 45 minutes, or until soft when pressed between thumb and fingers.
4. Roll each between the fingers: this makes them mealy.
5. Serve on a napkin.
"Why, I won't need to pare those! I'll put two of these I've washed in the oven. The oven's grand and hot!
"Let me see,—will all the others need paring?
"I won't need to pare those."
"Yes," she laughed, "I didn't notice the heading of the chapter before——
"'Potatoes Without Jackets,'"
Potatoes without jackets
No. 6.—Boiled Potatoes.
1. Wash potatoes.2. Pare, throwing into cold water.3. Drain; cover with boiling water, allowing 1 tablespoon salt to every twelve potatoes.4. Let boil ½ hour, or until the largest is soft when pierced with a fork.5. Drain off all the water.6. Shake over fire, or place on back of stove to dry off the potatoes.
1. Wash potatoes.
2. Pare, throwing into cold water.
3. Drain; cover with boiling water, allowing 1 tablespoon salt to every twelve potatoes.
4. Let boil ½ hour, or until the largest is soft when pierced with a fork.
5. Drain off all the water.
6. Shake over fire, or place on back of stove to dry off the potatoes.
No. 7.—Mashed Potatoes.
1. Boil potatoes. Drain; dry off.2. Mash in pan in which they were cooked.3. For every cupful, add1 dash pepper,1 saltspoon salt,½ tablespoon butter (scant).4. For every cupful, heat 2 tablespoons milk.5. Throw the heated milk on potatoes.6. Beat with a wire fork until creamy.7. Pile lightly on a hot dish. Serve uncovered.
1. Boil potatoes. Drain; dry off.
2. Mash in pan in which they were cooked.
3. For every cupful, add
1 dash pepper,1 saltspoon salt,½ tablespoon butter (scant).
4. For every cupful, heat 2 tablespoons milk.
5. Throw the heated milk on potatoes.
6. Beat with a wire fork until creamy.
7. Pile lightly on a hot dish. Serve uncovered.
Measuring Spoons
Billy's Potato Luncheon.
Note.—Remember that all measurements are level or even with the top. To divide a spoonful, cut it through the middle lengthwise, for a half; and across that, for one-quarter of a spoonful.
Note.—Remember that all measurements are level or even with the top. To divide a spoonful, cut it through the middle lengthwise, for a half; and across that, for one-quarter of a spoonful.
No. 8.—Potato Soup.
Place on the table:Two cups of milk3 freshly boiled potatoes1 onionbutterparsleyflour dredgerpeppersalt1 pint milk (2 cups)1. Put the milk in the upper part of a double boiler, half filling the under part with boiling water.2. Throw in 2 slices of onion, and put double boiler on the stove for 10 minutes.3. Mash potatoes and add to the hot milk.4. Add 1 teaspoon salt and a dash of pepper.5. Put through a wire strainer, rubbing the potatoes through with a spoon.To divide a spoonful6. Put into double boiler and place on stove.7. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a little pan.8. Throw into it ½ tablespoon flour. Stir well."I just hurry them along"9. Dip a little of the hot milk on this, stirring well, then pour into the soup.10. Let boil 10 minutes.11. Add 1 tablespoon chopped parsley. If too thick, add hot water or milk.12. Serve very hot.
Place on the table:
Two cups of milk
3 freshly boiled potatoes1 onionbutterparsleyflour dredgerpeppersalt1 pint milk (2 cups)
1. Put the milk in the upper part of a double boiler, half filling the under part with boiling water.
2. Throw in 2 slices of onion, and put double boiler on the stove for 10 minutes.
3. Mash potatoes and add to the hot milk.
4. Add 1 teaspoon salt and a dash of pepper.
5. Put through a wire strainer, rubbing the potatoes through with a spoon.
To divide a spoonful
6. Put into double boiler and place on stove.
7. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a little pan.
8. Throw into it ½ tablespoon flour. Stir well.
"I just hurry them along"
9. Dip a little of the hot milk on this, stirring well, then pour into the soup.
10. Let boil 10 minutes.
11. Add 1 tablespoon chopped parsley. If too thick, add hot water or milk.
12. Serve very hot.
"Oh, I know how to cook boiled potatoes! They're just like jacket-boiled, only they have their jackets off," she cried.
"Why, certainly," exclaimed Boiler Pan, which she had put on the stove half full of water, "I know my part—I just hurry them right along in a jiffy."
He looked so interested that Mary Frances laughed as she dropped the potatoes in.
"Are they all to be boi—boiled?" stuttered the bubbling Boiler Pan.
"Yes," said Mary Frances, "all except those I put in the oven. Listen! I'll tell you the menu for Billy's Potato Lunch. We'll begin, of course, with soup—Potato Soup."
"'Purée' is the word for thick soups," suggested Boiler Pan. "It seems more stylish, don't you think?"
"Yes, indeed!" said Mary Frances. "I do believe I'll write a card for each of us to have at our places at the table!" and she quickly brought her school pad from her desk.
She brought her school pad.
Then she wrote:
MenuBilly's Potato LunchPurée of PotatoPotatoes-in-the-ShellCold Meat Mashed PotatoesSliced Bananas with CreamMilk
"That 'Potato-in-the-Shell' sounds 'swell,'" said Coffee Pot, "but it seems to me you ought to have something to drink, like coffee, or something of that kind."
"Oh, that's true," Mary Frances replied, "but I don't know how to make coffee, and Mother said I must make everything in the order it came in my book——"
"Won't you look to see if my turn doesn't come soon?" interrupted Coffee Pot.
"See if my turn doesn't come soon?"
"Not to-day," Mary Frances shook her head. "To-day we have milk.
"To-day we have milk."
"Why, to-morrow!" as she looked in her book."Isn't that fine! But—those potatoes must be done. I should think so! A minute more, and they'd have been burned!" she said as she drained off the water.
"Now, ready for the masher!"
"Quite ready," said a little voice, and Mary Frances was not surprised to see Potato Masher tumble over the edge of Boiler Pan as she put him on the table.
"Quite ready."
"Push my head down hard!" said he in a thick, mushy voice, and Mary Frances did as he directed.
Suddenly Potato Masher stopped work.
"How will you know how much potato to put into the soup?" he asked.
"Why," said Mary Frances, "there were only six boiled ones altogether, so the three for the soup will be just half."
"Pretty good, pretty good for a little girl just learning to cook," Potato Masher said, and ducked his head into the potatoes again.
When they were finished Mary Frances said:
"Push my head down hard"
"You know so much about potatoes, perhaps you can sit right up on that box," pointing to the sugar box, "and tell me when I make a mistake. I'm goingto do 'xactly as my book says—you cry out, 'Stop!' when I do anything the wrong way."
"It—will—be—the—day—of—my—life—ever—to—be—remembered—"
Potato Masher ran his words together clumsily—"But I should be very much obliged to you if you would first wash my face."
"First wash my face."
"Why, certainly," said Mary Frances. "I didn't like to suggest it."
"Thank you kindly, Miss. 'Tis a pleasure to serve you," said the little fellow, as he perched himself on the sugar box, when Mary Frances brought him back to the table.
"All ready?" asked the little girl.
"Class proceed!" said Potato Masher, with a school teacher air.
Only twice did he interrupt her as she followed every direction given in the recipes: once, to remind her of the potatoes in the oven; and again, to tell her to pour the soup very slowly, lest she burn herself.
"Class proceed"
"It's mag-nif-i-cent!—this Potato Lunch," said he, as Mary Frances carried the last smoking dish to thedining table. "'Tis a proud day for the 'Assistant Chef'—meaning myself."
He made a pompous little bow toward the Kitchen Folks.
"I little thought she'd be on time. I was afraid I'd have to strike before she was ready," declared Mantel Clock, beginning to strike twelve just as Billy came in.
"Menus!" exclaimed the boy.
"Menus!" exclaimed the boy.
"Jimminy! 'Billy's Potato Lunch,'" he read. "Oh, I say—if I'd known I'd have dressed for the occasion!"
"Don't make fun, Billy," begged Mary Frances.
"'Make fun,'" cried Billy. "Just taste that soup—and see if anyone could make fun. It's fit for the President."
"Oh—Billy!" Mary Frances laughed.
"Maybe you think I don't mean it," said Billy, helping himself to mashed potatoes. "Why didn't you invite some company?"
"I didn't know that Potato Masher—I mean, I didn't know it would turn out so well," blushed Mary Frances.
"I little thought she'd be on time."
Pot and potatoes
"Invite somebody—can't I bring Bob and Eleanor over some day soon to lunch?"
"Yes,'" said Mary Frances, "if Aunt Maria——"
"Oh, by the way," said Billy "I 'most forgot! Aunt Maria had word her brother is sick at Upland, and she went to see him this morning, and can't possibly be back in time for breakfast. I guessed we'd make out O. K. I told her—I was thinking of our lunches, you know."
"Billy—really?" asked Mary Frances, "but I'm sorry for Aunt Maria's brother."
"Thank you kindly, Miss."
MARY FRANCES GETS BREAKFAST
Mother's last letter.
MARY FRANCES was a long time getting to sleep that night for thinking about breakfast.
She had her little cook book, and Mother's last letter under her pillow.
"Billy writes your lunches are 'scrumptious,'" ran her mother's letter. "I cannot tell how much comfort my little girl is to me."
"I've 'most a mind to tell Mother about the cook book," thought Mary Frances, "but won't she open her eyes when I tell her I've made everything—if I can keep the secret! I do hope I wake up in time. Father said he'd call me to breakfast, when he said "Good-night," but I want to slip down, and have everything ready when he comes."
So she fell asleep, and dreamed she made an Angel Cake as big as a mountain, and that Jubey stole it, and fed all the hungry cats in the World.
Jubey fed all the hungry cats in the world.
She had fixed the curtain so that the first sunlightwould fall on her face, and it seemed only a breath of time until she felt it call her.
How sleepy she was!
"I'll get down before the Kitchen Folks are awake," she whispered.
She carried her little shoes in her hand and stole softly downstairs, stopping in the dining-room to put them on.
"Nonsense, you!" she recognized the voice of Tea Kettle.
"Just wait till I read it out of my little book," mimicked a new voice.
To Make Potato Pie Out of Sauer-kraut.
"For shame, you saucy Pan!" exclaimed Big Iron Pot.
"Just wait until I read it!"
Mary Frances peeped into the kitchen. In the middle of the floor stood little Sauce Pan, pretending to read out of a book:
"'How to Make Potato Pie Out of Sauer-kraut.'"
"Silly!" exclaimed Potato Masher.
Sauce Pan repeated:
"To Make Potato Pie Out of Sauer-kraut:
"1. Fill eight potatoes with Sauer-kraut, and peel them.
"For shame, you saucy Pan!"
"2. Make a crust of the left-overs.
"3. Bake the parings well, and serve very hot on ice."
Just then Mary Frances sneezed.
How Sauce Pan ran, and jumped up to his place on the rack!
He looked so shamefaced when Mary Frances went in, that she hadn't the heart to scold him.
Instead, "Boiled Eggs," she called.
He pretended to be asleep. Then she took him by the arm and shook him.
"Boiled Eggs!" she shouted. "Doesn't that mean you?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly; "I'm such a 'sleepy-head!' Do you know," con-fi-den-ti-al-ly, "I often talk in my sleep." At this the Kitchen People grinned.