But, alas, by some oversight, the freezer had been left outdoors in the sun, the ice had been insufficient, and the result, instead of a finely moulded form, was a lot of thick creamy liquid.
“Don’t you care!” cried Ethel. “I just love soft ice cream. Call it a pudding, and let it go at that. Come, Dot, brace up. Who cares for the occasional slips of young housekeepers? Cut the cake and pass it to us, and give us some of that delicious-looking ice cream custard!”
The cake had turned out fairly decent, but not up to the mark. Dotty was a good cake maker but making it in a strange kitchen and baking it in a strange oven had made a difference, and the fluffy sponge cake she usually achieved, showed up a close, almost soggy, and very sticky compound.
“I’m just ready to cry,” said Dotty, as she looked at the dessert, from which they had hoped such great things.
“Don’t do anything so foolish,” said Dolly. “We slipped up on ’most everything, but we tried hard enough, goodness knows! If you’re hungry, girls, there are cookies in the cupboard, and there’s plenty of cocoa.”
“I’ll take some, please,” said Maisie, so plaintively, that they all laughed. And then they all fell to on the previously despised cookies, and under the cheer and raillery of their guests, the two D’s finally regained their poise, and laughed themselves at their chapter of accidents.
“Call it ‘The Feast That Failed,’ and let it go at that,” said Dotty.
“It wasn’t a failure at all,” protested Celia. “We’ve had heaps of fun.”
“Yes, it was a failure,” insisted Dotty; “and we’ll have to learn to do better. Why, when the boys come home, they’ll make all sorts of fun of us, if we can’t do better than this.”
“We will do better than this,” declared Dolly. “We’ll ask you again, girls, and show you how great an improvement second attempts are!”