CHAPTER XV
THIMBLE BISCUITS
MARY FRANCES carried all her dolls to the window seat in her room, and placed them in a row. Then she held up an envelope.
"Misses Angelina, Marie, Cosette, Lady Gay, Peg, Master Alfonso, why, listen! Here's a letter come for you. What can it be? Pay very strict 'tention while I read it. If you'd gone to school every day I've been so busy, perhaps you could read it yourselves; but, of course, when my hands are so full, I can't possibly get you off, and you are so helpless. Aren't you 'shamed? I think—yes, I think you all look ashamed except Peg. If you don't look ashamed in one minute, Peg,—just one minute I'll give you,—you sha'n't hear this! There, that will do! You needn't cry, dear child! Now, I'll read."
Mary Frances cut open the envelope.
Every doll looked deeply interested except poor Peg who had fallen on her side. "Why, it's an invitation to a Dolls' Party! Listen!"
"Now, dears," Mary Frances smiled upon them, "no wonder you look surprised; for that's a grand invitation, all written out on real paper. I had an awful time getting it to sound right. I'm not sure that it is just exactly correct yet. So we'll get dressed right away. Now don't all ask at once what you'll wear. Yes, Fonsey, of course you'll wear your dress suit. What of it if it isn't proper to wear it until after six o'clock? You have only your work clothes and that suit and you'll have to wear your best."
Everybody was quiet and good as gold while Mary Frances finished dressing them.
"There," she said to herself, "the last sash is tied. Goodness, I'm tired—tired-er than if I'd been cooking the whole morning! Aren't dolls stupid compared with Kitchen Folks? I do wonder what the Kitchen Folks will do. Will they talk before them?"
"Now, you dolls, be good, and take a nap," she warned, "so that you won't be sleepy at the party. I must go and get ready."
* * * * * * *
As she tied on her apron in the kitchen, she noticed Aunty Rolling Pin looked very anxious and excited. She couldn't seem to keep still, but kept rolling to and fro, watching Mary Frances' every motion.
"Well, Aunty Rolling Pin?" said Mary Frances.
"Did you, or did you not, please," asked Aunty Rolling Pin, "mention 'Biscuits' this morning?"
"I guess I did," replied Mary Frances, "when I glanced at my book. Here, I'll read it out:
No. 16.—Thimble Biscuits.
(Nice for Dolls' Tea Party.)
| 1 cup flour |
| 2 teaspoons baking powder |
| 1 tablespoon butter |
| ½ cup milk (scant) |
| ¼ teaspoon salt |
1. A hot oven and a greased pan.
2. Sift flour, baking powder and salt three times.
3. Rub butter lightly into the flour.
4. Pour the milk on gradually, mixing all the while with a knife, until a soft dough is formed.
(Perhaps not all the milk will be needed.)
5. Turn the dough on a well-floured board.
6. Pat it with the rolling pin until ¼ inch thick.
7. Use a large thimble as a cutter, and cut biscuits as close to each other as possible.
8. Place in pan a little distance apart.
9. Bake about 5 minutes.
No. 17.—Baking Powder Biscuits.
1. Make exactly the same as Thimble Biscuits (No. 16), only pat the dough out about three-quarters of an inch thick. Prick with a fork.
2. Cut with a biscuit cutter, and place in pan, a little distance apart.
3. Bake in a quick oven from 12 to 14 minutes.
"Ever make any biscuits, child?"
"No, Aunty Rolling Pin, but I believe I can with your help, if you'll be so kind."
"'Deed I will, child." Aunty Rolling Pin gave a delighted chuckle. "I've been waiting patiently for the chance."
"I'm going to give a Dolls' Kitchen Party, Aunty."
"Ah, I'm glad you told me, child; that makes everything more important than ever. So, as you gather together the things you'll need, you can listen—ahem!—to Aunty Rolling Pin's Wisdom."
"You know about 'most everything!" said Mary Frances. "I'd be much obliged to you for any other hints during the rest of my lessons."
"I'll be glad to help, child," said Aunty.
"Mother expected to explain everything to me, you see——"
"Yes, yes, child," smiled Aunty Rolling Pin, seeing Mary Frances looked sad; "but I see you have sifted the flour and baking powder and salt into a bowl and poured it back. Instead of using a bowl, it's a good idea to use a piece of heavy paper. When this is folded funnel-like, the flour can readily be poured into the sifter again and again."
"That certainly is easier," said Mary Frances, putting the hint to practice.
"In order to get the baking powder into every bit of the flour, they should be sifted together three times. Now, I see you are working the butter into the flour. Rub lightly with your finger tips. That's it—pour the milk gradually, mix well—the dough should be almost sticky, but not too soft to handle. Now it's my turn," she chuckled, as Mary Frances turned the dough on a well-floured board. "But if you are going to make Thimble Biscuits, one half of the dough is enough to pat out for them——"
"And I can make the rest into real biscuits! What a splendid idea!" said Mary Frances.
"Wonder if the handles are her ears," she thought, softly patting the dough with Aunty Rolling Pin.
As she bent over, she caught the sound of singing, and this is the song Aunty Rolling Pin sang:
"Roly-poly, roly-poly,
To and fro,
Roly-poly, roly poly,
O'er the dough.
Round as an apple,
Straight as a rule;
Guess who I am
Or I'll send you to ——
"Where?" she asked suddenly stopping.
Mary Frances jumped. She had been rolling Aunty Rolling Pin to and fro, unconsciously keeping time with her song.
"Where?" she again demanded, her mouth full of flour.
"Dear me," answered Mary Frances, "I don't know."
"School, of course," laughed Aunty Rolling Pin; "I thought you'd surely know."
"Oh, yes, of course," laughed Mary Frances; "Cooking School."
"Certainly, child," laughed Aunty Rolling Pin. "To what other school could you go to learn about me?"
"That's beautiful poetry," said Mary Frances.
"I think so," smiled Aunty Rolling Pin; "I made it up myself. It's so floury, you know," blowing the white dust in the air.
"Tee-hee," giggled Mary Frances.
Aunty Rolling Pin looked offended.
"Excuse me," said Mary Frances, "you mean 'flowery.'"
"I mean what I say," said Aunty Rolling Pin; "isn't that what I said?"
As it certainly was what she said, and Mary Frances didn't like to explain, she hastily turned to her work.
It didn't take long to cut the biscuits, as she had often helped her mother in baking. She knew how to dip the cutter each time into flour, that the dough might not stick. She used the large thimble she had brought down from the sewing room in the same way as she had used the biscuit cutter.
"Aren't they too sweet!" she cried delightedly, as she laid the tiny biscuits side by side, but not touching, in the little baking pan. With the rest of the dough, she had made three larger ones. "One for each of the family," she said, slipping them with the Thimble Biscuits into the oven.
"Let me see what's next. Oh, yes, the cocoa. I do declare, it's little Sauce Pan's turn again. No wonder he's puffed up," she thought. "Strange, he hasn't said a word. I'm 'most sure I have to use Sauce Pan. Perhaps he doesn't understand. I'll read aloud:
No. 18.—Cocoa.
For each cup:
| 1 tablespoon cocoa |
| 1 tablespoon sugar |
| ½ cup boiling water |
| ½ cup milk |
1. Heat milk.
2. Mix cocoa and sugar.
3. Pour boiling water on them gradually, making a smooth paste.
4. Add the milk, and cook a half minute.
5. Beat with an egg beater.
* * * * * * *
Silence.
"Sauce Pan!" one of the Kitchen People near him whispered loudly, "Sauce Pan! Why don't you speak?"
"Don't bother me. I'm asleep," muttered Sauce Pan drowsily, "sound asleep!"
Mary Frances gasped.
"What 'n awful story!" exclaimed the one who had first spoken.
"You're not very polite to question my word to my very face," Sauce Pan retorted angrily. "Now, if someone else had told you, that would have been different; then you'd had some excuse."
"Come," thought Mary Frances, "that's too silly! I'll put an end to this. I don't need any help with this simple recipe."
Seizing Sauce Pan quite carelessly, she quickly made the cocoa.
