CHAPTER XIX
POOR BLUE PITCHER
"WHY," said Mary Frances, looking over her book next morning at the breakfast table, "to-day's lesson is so easy I think it would be just the time to invite Eleanor over for her cooking lesson.
"I do wonder whether the Kitchen People will talk and help us—or whether they can help but one person. It would be pretty hard without their help; but let me read the recipe again:
No. 27.—Apple Snow.
1. Pare and slice apples, dropping into cold water.
2. Cook slowly until soft.
3. Mash well and measure.
4. To every cupful, allow
| ¼ cup powdered sugar, |
| white of 1 egg, well beaten. |
5. Add a spoonful of each to apples until used, stirring in lightly each time.
6. Add 1 drop vanilla for each cup of apples.
7. Serve with cream.
"I guess I'll go ask the Kitchen People about it right away!"
But some one was talking.
"Wonder what little Mistress will cook to-day."
"I'll see if they know," said Mary Frances to herself.
"It's hard to remember so far ahead," complained Coffee Pot. "I wish it was my turn all the time."
"Oh, you have more chance than most of us, except Tea Kettle," exclaimed Sauce Pan. "I expect, though, most of us will be used a lot now,"—airily.
"Why?"
"Oh, I read a poem about it, which proves——"
"Say it!" interrupted several Kitchen People. ("What fun!" thought Mary Frances. "I'll try to remember it.")
"All right!" said Sauce Pan, proudly, beginning to recite:
"'The good old times are back, they say;
Now, people eat six times a day.
Nothing they eat is quite so good
As victuals, eatables and food.
They'll eat 'em cooked, they'll eat 'em raw,
While they have teeth with which to chaw.'"
"Beautiful!" exclaimed the Kitchen People.
"If that isn't too silly for anything in the world!"
It was a new voice. Mary Frances peeped out. Big Blue Pitcher was near the edge of the shelf.
"It's perfectly true, though," re-tort-ed Sauce Pan, angrily.
"There! There!" said Aunty Rolling Pin, soothingly; "don't get so excited! Of course it's true."
"You bet it's true and I can prove——"
"Oh, my ear!" cried Blue Pitcher, toppling dangerously near the edge of the shelf. "Prove it! Prove it! You can't!—you conceited id-i-o-ti-cal old Sauce Pan! I dare you!"
Over he went—Crash!!!—broken into pieces.
"He's dead," exclaimed the excited Kitchen People, and began to wring their funny little hands, and to cry
"Oh, why did-de-die?
"Oh, why did-de-die?
"Oh, why did-de-die? did-de-die-die-die?"
They kept up this chant until Mary Frances stepped out into the kitchen.
"Why did-de-die?" demanded Mary Frances, but not a word was answered.
"What will Mother say?" she said, sweeping up the broken pieces of poor Blue Pitcher. "Won't she be sorry!"
"Yes, she will!" said Sauce Pan; "but it was his own fault! I think Jubey'll be sorrier! She thought Blue Pitcher one of her best friends. They were very con-fi-dent-ial. Only yesterday I heard her telling him that always after eating a hearty meal for which she had no appetite, she felt hungry."
"What did Blue Pitcher say?" asked Aunty Rolling Pin.
"Never paid any 'tention—just said: 'Humph, Jubey, I know where a lot of cat-tails grow!'
"'You do, do you?' said Jubey. 'I'd like to know.'
"'On little kittens!' said Blue Pitcher."
The Kitchen People laughed.
"Bet Sauce Pan made that all up," whispered Coffee Pot.
"No," said Sauce Pan, overhearing, "I—I don't tell tails!"