"But I couldn't ice the cakes till the day before the fair, anyway," she said philosophically to Miss Parsons, "though I did want to have time to see that the plates and napkins were matched; last year we ran short of napkins."
The morning of the fair, Rosemary hurried upstairs to ice her cakes. They were all arranged on the kitchen table, thirty of them, each one a triumph of culinary art. Rosemary was excused from school for the day, but the cakes had been baked late the previous afternoon for it was a school rule that the fair was not to interfere with class attendance.
"And I don't see why Rosemary Willis should be excused," muttered Fannie Mears indignantly.
"I suppose you think she can ice thirty cakes in half an hour," Sarah flung back. "And set the table and go home and get dressed, too."
Humming happily, Rosemary tied on her white apron and went about her mixing. As she had said, there were ten different icings to be made, the same flavor being allowed only three cakes. Some were loaves and some were layers and one or two had been scorched. These Rosemary carefully grated and planned to ice thickly.
In the midst of her work she made a distressing discovery. The linen cloth for the table was soiled!
"I'm just as sure as I can be that it was clean in the drawer last night," Rosemary confided to Miss Parsons. "I looked the last thing."
She had found it rolled up in a wad and stuffed at the furtherest end of the table drawer. Not only was it rumpled, but it showed several stains.
"I'll go home this noon and get one of ours," said Rosemary. "I think I'll be glad when this fair is over."
"I think we'll all be glad," replied Miss Parsons, frowning a little, for the cloth incident annoyed her. She, too, had been certain it was clean the afternoon before.