"Let's see how the oven is," said Polly, pulling open the door and peering in. "It feels nice and warm, so perhaps we'd better go to work."
"Where are your cook-books?" demanded Molly.
"Here." And Polly brought out a number of books and pamphlets. "We ought to find a rule in some of these."
Molly possessed herself of the largest.
"'Marion Holland'—no, 'Harland,'" she read. "Oh, I've heard of her! I'll look in this, and you take another. Let's see, where's the index? 'Soups—fish—poultry—meats—company.' Oh, where is it? 'Eggs—cake.' That sounds like it. 'Servants—puddings.' At last! 'Apple—cottage—cracker—lemon.' Here are two lemon puddings, Polly." And Molly glanced up to see Polly, with an anxious frown, reading intently from her own small book. She looked up, in her turn, to answer,—
"Here's another, so you read yours and then I'll read mine, and we'll see which we like best."
"'One cup of sugar, four eggs, two tablespoons cornstarch, two lemons, one pint milk, one tablespoon butter,'" read Molly. "You get your milk hot and put in the starch and boil five minutes— Oh, there's a lot more to do! Just see here."
Both heads were bent over the book. Then Polly exclaimed,—
"Mine is easier, I know. Listen: 'A quarter of a pound of suet, half a pound of bread crumbs, four ounces of sugar, the juice of two lemons, the grated rind of one, and one egg. Boil it well in an Agate pot, and serve with sauce.'"
There was an expressive pause.