“Donald sat down by the stove and watched the girl as she broke the eggs and separated the yolks from the white, and dexterously whipped the latter to a snowy froth; then sifted the flour.
“Whew! What a lot of eggs you use!� he exclaimed.
“The whites of eleven only, and I’ll make a gold cake of the yolks. That’s economy.�
“Ah, I understand.�
“As you do the magic of Hermann. You wouldn’t know how to make this if you watched me make a dozen, I am sure.�
“The whites of eleven eggs,� began Donald.
“Yes, and one glass of flour sifted five times, with a teaspoonful of cream of tartar.�
“But cream of tartar is sour, and cakes should be sweet, shouldn’t they?� questioned Donald.
Tibby looked at him with an expression of pitying contempt.
“I told you, you couldn’t understand it. It’s beyond your comprehension.�