"Now we're all ready," Dolly said, as she tucked a handkerchief into her sash folds. "Wait for me here, Dot, and I'll get the cake."
Dolly went to the kitchen and on through to the pantry, where she had left the cake on a shelf by the window. But it was not there.
"Maria," she called, wondering what the old darky had done with it.
There was no reply and Dolly called again louder.
"Yas'm, I'se comin'," and the old cook came in at the back door of the kitchen. "What yo' want, honey? I spec' I jes' done drapped asleep fer a minute, settin' out dere in de sun. What is it, honey chile?"
"Where's the cake, Maria?"
"On de pantry shelf, whar yo' done left it. I ain't teched it, dat I ain't."
"But it isn't there. You must have put it someplace else."
"No, Miss Dolly, I nebber laid a hand on dat cake. I know jes' how choice you was of it, an' I lef it jes' whar yo' put it."
"But it isn't there, and who would disturb it?"