Kneaded and mixed,
And done in a trix
In a little dream-bower,”
and on the top of the cake is a dinky bird with wings spread out all ready to fly.’
Phillida dreamt as she was ordered, and in her dream she saw the cake, and that it was a beautiful cake, and the little cake-bird was a sweet little bird!
‘What a handsome cake!’ she cried out aloud in her sleep; ‘and the little cake-bird is a dear little bird, and it looks as if it can fly and sing:’ and she laughed so heartily that the Piskeys laughed too, and one of the Dinky Men turned head over heels on the patchwork quilt out of sheer delight that the child was so pleased with her beautiful dream-cake and the little dream-bird.
‘Dream that Grannie Tredinnick is as pleased with the cake and the cake-bird as you are,’ said another little Piskey, stepping on to the bridge of Phillida’s nose, ‘and that she thinks it is even better than the cakes which were made for her when she was a croom of a cheeld, and the little cake-bird is more like a real bird than those that were on top of her Christmas cakes.’
The child dreamt as the Piskey ordered, and much beside that the Dinky Man never thought of ordering. In her dream she not only heard her grandmother say what a beautiful cake it was, and that the little cake-bird looked like a real bird, but that she said: ‘We must cut and eat the cake, but spare the little cake-bird.’ In her sleep she saw the old woman, dressed in her Sunday gown and cap, lean over the small oak table and cut her such a big slice of the cake that she cried out in amazed delight:
‘What a great big piece you have given me, Grannie!’ and her laugh was as happy and gay as a Piskey’s laugh. ‘But I must not eat all this myself; I must crumble some of it for the little moor-birds, and put a piece out on the doorstep for the Dinky Men. It isn’t a dream-cake, Grannie, but a Christmas cake, and it has a little Christmas bird on top!’
The Piskeys looked at one another with a peculiar expression in their round little eyes when the child spoke of putting a bit of her Christmas cake on the step of the door for them, and one said, ‘Dear little maid!’ and another said ‘Pretty child!’ and one little fellow, with a beard reaching to his feet, cried, ‘How kind of her to want us poor little Piskeys to have part in the Christmas joy!’ One little Dinky Man whispered: ‘Perhaps it is not true what the old whiddle[9] says, after all—that we are not good enough for heaven nor bad enough for hell. The child does not think so, evidently, or she would not be so anxious for us to share her little Christmas cake.’