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"But the icing!" said Sister aloud. "There's no ICING! I s'pose Molly didn't have time." If Sister had stopped to think, she would have remembered that all the birthday cakes Molly made and she made seven every year for the Morrisons, and one for Grandmother Hastings were always iced with pink or white or chocolate icing.
We amused ourselves icing the cake, inventing devices, with the aid of scraps of telegraph wire, as supports for the upper decorations, decorating the house with cedar and balsam wreaths, and providing as good a dinner as it was possible to obtain in the woods. With the exception of having nothing for our guests to drink, we succeeded tolerably well.
Make an icing with the whites of three eggs, twenty-four tea-spoonfuls of loaf-sugar, and eight drops of essence of lemon. When the cake is cool, mark it in small squares with a knife. Cover it with icing, and ornament it while wet, with nonpareils dropped on in borders, round each square of the cake.
She wants everything in the story tinged with whatever colour she chooses, dresses, parasols, flowers, sky, even the icing on the cakes and the paper on the walls." "What an odd little thing she is!" exclaimed Mrs. Tyler. "Isn't she lots of company for you?" She need not have asked that question if she could have seen them that evening, sitting together in the early twilight.
Unable to resist their imploring appeal, he turned at once and delivered his burden. "Ice-cream lemonade " he made inventory "cake with icing tin spoon paper napkin in my pocket. Is there anything else?" "I think," said Jenny, conscientiously, "there's figs." "You do not wish any figs to-night, Jenny," declared Miss Carstairs, rather more severely than mere figs seemed to warrant. "No'm!
If the weather should be unpropitious the festival was to be in the church vestry. All that day Dorinda was busy baking and icing cake. She was not going to the festival partly because I was going and she could not leave Mother but principally because such affairs were altogether too frivolous to fit in her scheme of orthodoxy.
The icing is temporary, and that's much more modest, isn't it? And why is it vulgar to feel important more on account of something you've done yourself than because of something one of your ancestors did? Besides, if we go back a few generations, we've all got such hundreds of ancestors it seems idiotic to go picking out one or two to be proud of ourselves about.
That's what I thought, and when the wedding came to an end I asked Mary Dugdale to give me a bit of the cake all private for myself. She's a good-natured sort is Mary, though not equal to Jones not by no means. She cut a nice square of the cake, a beautiful chunk, black with richness as to the fruit part, yellow as to the almond, and white as the driven snow as to the icing.
The trueness of these lines was a wonder, and only Dolly's steady hand as she traced them with a paper cornucopia of icing could have resulted in such an effective scheme. "It is perfectly wonderful!" said Mr. Rose, looking at it as an artist. "It's like the Taj Mahal or some such World Wonder." "It's perfectly exquisite!" said Mrs.
Ruminating, he thought about how each year for his birthday she had fixed her American born, but not raised, angel food cake burnished in icing, and brought him to fairs to shoot the moving plastic ducks. Once she had taken him all the way to Bangkok for no other purpose than to allow him to see the sedentary reptiles there.
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