"Better look in the oven!"
"Oh, my, I'm glad you 'thought me,' Aunty Rolling Pin," cried Mary Frances, opening the oven door.
"Oh, dear me! Most of the Thimble Biscuits are burnt up and the big ones are just done, I guess!"
"The thicker things are, the 'slower' the oven, child. The thinner, the hotter the oven——"
"Aunty Rolling Pin," cried Mary Frances, not realizing she had interrupted, "there are enough Thimble Biscuits not burnt to go 'round. Isn't that good? And the dolls can't make themselves sick with them."
"It's not much of a waste," smiled Aunty Rolling Pin, "and (seeming to be seriously thinking) the dolls can't make themselves sick on them—eating too many, I suppose."
"Well," said Mary Frances, "you see, it's like this:
"When I my dolls invite to tea,
It is a pretty sight to see
The things one seldom gets to eat
All on the table spread, so sweet;
But to my dollies I explain,
Don't eat too much—you'll have a pain.
"Then, just to save them such a trial,
I let them sit and look a while
At cakes, and tarts, and candies, too.
Then eat them up myself—wouldn't you?
For thus they're saved from being ill,
And I, likewise, a doctor's bill.
But—just between you, dear, and me—
They couldn't eat at all, you see."