After putting everything away, Dinah got a dish, broke an egg into it (such a tiny egg, about as large as a bird’s), and with a dear little egg-beater whisked it as light as a feather. Then she poured in some milk and added flour, with a little salt and baking-powder. Janie wondered what she was going to make and glanced at the range. “O joy! pancakes!” she cried, as she spied the smoking hot griddle, the size of a small saucer.
Dinah put on the broiler and laid the steak carefully on it, cut a potato into dice and put it into a pan with a little cream; then, with a dash of salt and pepper on the steak (which was soon done to a turn), she placed it on a platter and generously buttered it. When all was ready she rang a toy bell, and the family of dolls filed down into the dining-room.
They seated themselves, and papa served the food. When he carved the steak the knife bent double, for it was really never meant for use.
“Why, I must go and buy another. I didn’t know it was so poor,” said mamma doll, as she poured the coffee into the tiny cups and added cream and sugar.
How funny they all looked, sitting there and really eating! Janie tried to smother a hysterical laugh, and made such a queer sound that they all looked up. She felt almost disgraced when her big doll, who had followed her about, whispered:
“Come away, or you’ll hurt their feelings.”
