Part 24 (2/2)

”Then I thought I'd do the other dish we had that day--”

”Just what I did.”

”Feeling sure you would all try the pastry, and perhaps get on better than I.”

”Exactly our case,” and a fresh laugh ended this general confession.

”Now we must eat our pigeons, as we have nothing else, and it is against the rule to add from outside stores. I propose that we each pa.s.s our dish round; then we can all criticise it, and so get some good out of this very funny lunch.”

Augusta's plan was carried out; and all being hungry after their unusual exertions, the girls fell upon the unfortunate birds like so many famished creatures. The first one went very well, but when the dishes were pa.s.sed again, each taster looked at it anxiously; for none were very good, there was nothing to fall back upon, and variety is the spice of life, as every one knows.

”Oh, for a slice of bread,” sighed one damsel.

”Why didn't we think of it?” asked another.

”I did, but we always have so much cake I thought it was foolish to lay in rolls,” exclaimed Augusta, rather mortified at the neglect.

”I expected to have to taste six pies, and one doesn't want bread with pastry, you know.”

As Edith spoke she suddenly remembered Patty's biscuit, which had been left on the side-table by their modest maker, as there seemed to be no room for them.

Rejoicing now over the rather despised dish, Edith ran to get it, saying as she set it in the middle, with a flourish:--

”My cousin's contribution. She came so late we only had time for that.

So glad I took the liberty of bringing her and them.”

A murmur of welcome greeted the much-desired addition to the feast, which would have been a decided failure without it, and the pretty plate went briskly round, till nothing was left but the painted roses in it.

With this help the best of the potted pigeons were eaten, while a lively discussion went on about what they would have next time.

”Let us each tell our dish, and not change. We shall never learn if we don't keep to one thing till we do it well. I will choose mince-pie, and bring a good one, if it takes me all the week to do it,” said Edith, heroically taking the hardest thing she could think of, to encourage the others.

Fired by this n.o.ble example, each girl pledged herself to do or die, and a fine list of rich dishes was made out by these ambitious young cooks.

Then a vote of thanks to Patty was pa.s.sed, her biscuit unanimously p.r.o.nounced the most successful contribution, and the vase presented to the delighted girl, whose blushes were nearly as deep as the color of the flowers behind which she tried to hide them.

Soon after this ceremony the party broke up, and Edith went home to tell the merry story, proudly adding that the country cousin had won the prize.

”You rash child, to undertake mince-pie. It is one of the hardest things to make, and about the most unwholesome when eaten. Read the receipt and see what you have pledged yourself to do, my dear,” said her mother, much amused at the haps and mishaps of the cooking-cla.s.s.

Edith opened her book and started bravely off at ”Puff-paste;” but by the time she had come to the end of the three pages devoted to directions for the making of that indigestible delicacy, her face was very sober, and when she read aloud the following receipt for the mince-meat, despair slowly settled upon her like a cloud.

One cup chopped meat; 1-1/2 cups raisins; 1-1/2 cups currants; 1-1/2 cups brown sugar; 1-1/3 cups mola.s.ses; 3 cups chopped apples; 1 cup meat liquor; 2 teaspoonfuls salt; 2 teaspoonfuls cinnamon; 1/2 teaspoonful mace; 1/2 teaspoonful powdered cloves; 1 lemon, grated; 1/4 piece citron, sliced; 1/2 cup brandy; 1/4 cup wine; 3 teaspoonfuls rosewater.

”Oh me, what a job! I shall have to work at it every day till next Sat.u.r.day, for the paste alone will take all the wits I've got. I _was_ rash, but I spoke without thinking, and wanted to do something really fine. We can't be shown about things, so I must blunder along as well as I can,” groaned Edith.

”I can help about the measuring and weighing, and chopping. I always help mother at Thanksgiving time, and she makes splendid pies. We only have mince then, as she thinks it's bad for us,” said Patty, full of sympathy and good will.

”What are you to take to the lunch?” asked Edith's mother, smiling at her daughter's mournful face, bent over the fatal book full of dainty messes, that tempted the unwary learner to her doom.

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