The two children stood on the mat by the kitchen door, and looked around them. There was a large fire, and the cook was taking a number of little cakes from the oven shelf. They were curious little cakes, of all shapes and sizes. Some were round, some square, some diamond-shaped: some were like birds, some like fishes, some like leaves.
The children peered curiously at them as the cook arranged them on tiny plates, not larger than the inside of Angel's little hand. She was in the midst of doing this when the kitchen door opened, and a little girl ran in. She was much younger than Angel, and she was dressed in a white frock and blue sash. In her arms was a beautiful doll, more beautiful than any doll Angel had ever seen except in a toy-shop window.
The little girl ran quickly into the kitchen; but when she saw the children she looked shyly at them, and crept up to cook's side.
"Now, Miss Ellie," said cook, "are you come to look at your cakes?" and she lifted the little girl upon a stool, that she might stand by and watch what she was doing.
"Are all these for my birthday?" said the child.
"Yes, every one of them," said cook.
"Oh, what a great many! Aren't there a great many, cook?"
"Yes; but I suppose there's plenty of little folks to eat them," said cook, laughing.
"Oh yes," said the child; "there's me, and Alice, and Fanny, and Jemmy; and then there's Nellie Rogers and Joe Rogers, and little Eva; and there's Charlie and Willie Campbell. And then there are all my dollies: they must come to my birthday tea, mustn't they, cook?"
"Oh, of course," said cook; "it would never do to leave them out. Is that a new one, Miss Ellie?"