“Oh, mix it, and stir it, and stir it and taste;
For ev’rything’s in it, and nothing to waste;
And ev’ry one’s helped—even Baby—to make
The nice, brown, sugary Christmas cake,”
said Mrs. McMulligan, as she poured the batter into the cake pan.
The Baker who lived at the corner was to bake the Christmas cake, so Joseph, the oldest boy, made haste to carry it to him. All the other children followed him, and together they went, oh, so carefully, out of the front door, down the sidewalk, straight to the shop where the Baker was waiting for them.
The Baker’s face was so round and so jolly that the McMulligan children thought he must look like Santa Claus. He could bake the whitest bread and the lightest cake, and as soon as the children spied him they began to call:
“The cake is all ready! ’T is here in the pan;
Now bake it, good Baker, as fast as you can”;
“No, no,” said the Baker, “ ’T would be a mistake
To hurry in baking the Christmas cake.
I’ll not bake it fast, and I’ll not bake it slow;
My little round clock on the wall there will show
How long I must watch and how long I must bake
The nice, brown, sugary Christmas cake.”
The little round clock hung on the wall above the oven. Its face was so bright, and its tick was so merry, and it was busy night and day telling the Baker when to sleep and when to eat and when to do his baking. When the McMulligan children looked at it, it was just striking ten, and it seemed to them very plainly to say:
“ ’T is just the right time for the Baker to bake
The nice, brown, sugary Christmas cake.”
The oven was ready, and the Baker made haste to put the cake in.
“Ho, ho,” he cried gayly, “now isn’t this fun?
’T is ten o’ the clock, and the baking’s begun,
And ‘tickity, tickity,’ when it strikes one,
If nothing should hinder the cake will be done.”