"Oh, thank you!" they said, breathlessly, in chorus (looking at each other all the while as though they'd learned and rehearsed every word). "I thought I'd never get out to help! I've listened through the door to every lesson, just hoping my turn would come. There I was back of the other pots and pans, and when I heard 'Cake' I just jumped!"
"As I had just started to say"—Aunty Rolling Pin began.
"What do you know about cakes!" cried the Cake Tins, angrily. "If everybody'd just mind his own cooking—who ever rolls cakes?"
"Well, I know about cookies," said Aunty Rolling Pin; "and besides, I know about most things,—I belonged to a real cooking teacher!"
"Prove it!" cried the Cake Tins.
"I will," said Aunty Rolling Pin; "here's part of a lecture the teacher used to give:
"Now, ladies, you can see the ex-ceed-ing-ly good texture of this cake, as I drop it from the spoon. The nu-tri-tive value of the ut-il-ized com-po-si-tion is unequaled, except in rare cases of cul-in-ary e-con-om-y. For instance, the proteids, the car-bon-a-ce-ous contrib-u-tions plus the con-di-ments, afford an instance of un-u-su-al strength-giving power. The in-ex-cus-a-ble prod-i-gal-i-ty of the A-mer-i-can house-wife——'"
