style="font-size:15px;"> Mother.—What's this? Who has been at my cake,—my cake that I took so much pains to make handsome?
Bessy.—Fred wanted to see if it was properly salted.
Mother.—Here's the mark of Maggy's hand! And here's a deep hole which Fred's naughty finger must have made! And here, Bessy, are your marks. I'm ashamed of you all. Meddling with my nice cake without leave.
Bessy.—I'm very sorry I touched it, mother.
Fred.—So am I; but I wanted to see if it was well seasoned.
Mother.—Well seasoned, sir? You deserve to be well seasoned with a rod. Now, your punishment shall be, not to taste a crumb of this nice cake, any one of you. I shall give it to the poor family opposite.
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