come up sometime to make trouble."

"Well," said Polly, "I suppose she's got to; and perhaps," as a
consoling idea struck her, "perhaps she'll want to eat it up herself
when it's done. Here, Phronsie," giving her a handful of the cake
mixture, which she stiffened with flour to the right thickness,
"there, you can call that a 'gingerbread boy;' see, won't it make a
beautiful one!"

"You needn't think," said Mrs. Pepper, seeing Phronsie's delighted
face, and laughing as she went back to her work, "but what that
gingerbread boy'll go."

When the little cakes were done, eight of them, and set upon the
table for exhibition, they one and all protested that they never saw
so fine a lot. Polly was delighted with the praise they received, and
her mother's commendation that she was "growing a better cook
every day." "How glad Jasper'll be, won't he, mamsie?" said she.

The children walked around and around the table, admiring and
pointing out the chief points of attraction, as they appeared before
their discriminating eyes.

"I should choose that one," said Joel, pointing at one which was
particularly plummy, with a raisin standing up on one end with a
festive air, as if to say, "there's lots of us inside, you better
believe!"

"I wouldn't," said Davie, "I'd have that--that's cracked so pretty."