“Another present!” cried the delighted girl, “Thank you, Kate, and when your birthday comes, I’ll make you a cake.”
“Poor Kate!” Jack Doring said in mock sympathy. “I wouldn’t have a birthday soon if I were you, Kate, but if you do have one, be sure to hide the salt-box. You know why.”
Adele laughed good-naturedly as she exclaimed, “Just because I put salt in one cake instead of sugar is no sign that I am going to do it forever after.”
When the generous slices were passed, Betty Burd gave a squeal of delight. “Oh, do look!” she cried. “There are things in the cake to tell our fortunes.”
“Mine is a piece of straw,” Dick Jensen chuckled. “So I am to be a farmer, I suppose. Well, I’d like nothing better.”
“Alas and alack!” moaned Doris Drexel. “I have a thimble, and I just hate sewing, but I suppose that I shall have to be resigned to my fate.”
“See what I have!” Jack Doring exclaimed, as triumphantly he held aloft a silver dime. “I just felt in my bones that I was going to be rich some day.”
“Not if you have to work for it,” teased Adele, for Jack was rather inclined to be indolent.
“I wasn’t planning to work,” Jack replied calmly. “I shall find a gold mine or some little thing like that.”
“Poor little me!” moaned Rosamond Wright. “There doesn’t seem to be a thing in my piece of cake.”