"It's just awful, girlies," said Mrs. Rose, full of helpless sympathy; "but I can't think of anything to do. I don't believe you could make another cake successfully, you're too nervous and upset, both of you."
Maria, however, did not take it so calmly. Her grief was more boisterous even than Dolly's. She ran round the kitchen, throwing her apron over her head, and wailing and moaning like a crazy woman.
"Oh, dat cake! dat cake!" she groaned, dropping into a chair and rocking back and forth in ecstasies of woe. "Dat hebenly cake! Sho'ly Miss Dotty and Miss Dolly yo' could make anudder. I kin help yo', and we'll whisk it up in a jiffy. Do make some kind, oh do, now!"
"No, Maria," and Dolly looked positive; "we can't make another cake. It's out of the question. Shall we go to the fair at all, Dot?"
"Yes, of course we will! I want to find out what girl was mean enough and smart enough to cut up this trick!"
"Come on then. You'd better wash your face, you're all teary looking. I s'pose we might as well go, but I don't feel a bit like it. All the fun's gone out of it."
Dotty ran away to bathe her reddened eyes, and Dolly gravely walked round the kitchen, looking here and there as if the cake might have voluntarily hidden itself somewhere.
"It's most mysterious," said Mrs. Rose. "I never heard of anything being stolen up in this region before. I wish Mr. Rose were here, but of course he couldn't do anything, and I think we may feel sure that he didn't steal the cake."
"Where is he?" asked Dolly, smiling a little at the jest.
"Gone over to the Norris camp, I think. I wish the boys were here; of course they couldn't do anything, but they could help us express our indignation."