The old corner cupboard disclosed griddles and gridirons, saucepans and frying-pans; rows of shining tins hung over the sink; egg-beaters and syllabub-churns smiled out at them from the shelves; and a big fat pudding-mold beamed a welcome from its corner.
Betty seized two tin kettle-covers, and, clashing them like cymbals, broke into the club’s “battle-song,” which they sang on every possible occasion. Marjorie played an accompaniment on the coffee-mill, Nan whisked in some trills with the egg-beater, and they all sang:
Rub-a-dub-dub!
Rub-a-dub-dub!
Hurrah for the girls of the Blue Ribbon Club!
And whether we’re beating,
Or heating,
Or eating,
We always have fun at the Blue Ribbon Club!
A loud knock at the back door made them all jump.