Dolly, draw the Cake
At an early age St Dolly showed the sweetness of her nature by her tender love for her widowed father, a baker, dwelling at Pie Corner, with a large family of little children. It chanced that with bad harvests bread became so dear that, of course, bakers were ruined by high prices. The miller fell upon Dolly’s father, and swept the shop with his golden thumb. Not a bed was left for the baker or his little ones. St Dolly slept upon a flour sack, having prayed that good angels would help her to help her father. Now sleeping, she dreamt that the oven was lighted, and she felt falling in a shower about her, raisins, currants, almonds, lemon peel, flour, with heavy drops of brandy. Then in her dreams she saw the fairies gather up the things that fell, and knead them into a cake. They put the cake into the oven, and dancing round and round, the fairies vanished, crying, “Draw the cake, Dolly—Dolly, draw the cake.” And Dolly awoke and drew the cake, and, behold, it was the first Twelfth Cake, sugared at the top, and bearing the images of Faith, Hope and Charity. Now this cake, shown in the window, came to the king’s ear; and the king bought the cake, and married Dolly to hisgrand falconer, to whom she proved a faithful and loving wife, bearing him a baker’s dozen of lovely children.
There was a general laugh at Pink’s story, it was soveryshort, and Pink felt quite proud of herself in having got through her tale telling about twice as quickly as Quick.
“Only two more stories,” said Oberon, “and then all must fly back to their proper work as fairies. There are so many of us here that would like to take a turn on the tale-teller’s stool that it is now not easy to choose, so we will have our next story from the first fairy who can get on the stool—but wait,” for as soon as Oberon spoke the rush began, “you must all go to your places and start fair when I say ‘three.’” There was a pause while all settled back in their places, and then Oberon said slowly, “One—Two—Three.”
As soon as the last word was heard there was such a scramble and rush from all parts of the ring, some running, some flying, but the nimblest of all was a Kobold, who seated himself firmly on the stool and would not let himself be pushed off. As soon as it was seen that the stool was occupied all the fairies who had tried to get there went laughing merrily back to their places, and the Kobold triumphantly began the story of