a
dilapidated looking pie, minus all its frosting, in the other.

"Oh, our lovely pies!" wailed the children in chorus.

"The burros!" gasped Tabitha.

Gloriana nodded. "One had his nose right in the middle of this pie.
The other beast had upset the second tin and was licking up the crumbs
from the gravel."

"Oh, dear, I want some pie!" whimpered Rosslyn, puckering his face to
cry.

"Ain't that the worst luck?" Susie burst out.

"If you had put the pies in the _window_ to cool, like mamma does--"
began Inez.

"It's too late to make any more to-night," Gloriana hastily
interrupted, seeing a wrathful sparkle in Tabitha's black eyes; "but if
you don't make any more fuss about it this time, we'll bake some
to-morrow."

"And if you want any supper at all, you'd better come now," advised
Mercedes, from her post by the stove, where she was vigorously making
hash of the sliced potatoes. "This stuff is beginning to burn."

Gloriana rescued the frying pan, and the disappointed children gathered
about the table, trying to look cheerful, but failing dismally.

"Don't want any 'tato," objected Janie, scorning the proffered dish.
"Dingerbread!"

"Potato and beans first," insisted Tabitha.

"Dingerbread!" stubbornly repeated the child, so sleepy and cross that
the weary older girl said no more, but slid a large slice of the savory
cake into the little plate, and proceeded to help the other children in
the same liberal manner. No one wanted beans and potato, but at the
first mouthful of the tempting-looking gingerbread, everyone paused,
looked inquiringly at her neighbor, chewed cautiously a time or two,
and then eight hands went to eight pair of lips.

"I thought we stoned raisins for this cake," cried Susie, half
indignantly.

"So you did," replied Gloriana, her face flushed crimson as she bent
over her plate, intently examining her slice of cake.

"Oh, and put the stones in the cake! What did you do with the
raisins?" demanded Inez.

Before Glory could frame a reply, or offer any excuse for the accident,
Irene slid hurriedly off her chair, flew through the doorway and down
the path toward town, but she was back in a moment, and in her hand she
held a cup of raisins.

"Why, Irene McKittrick!" cried Mercedes, lifting her hands in horror.
"What made you hide them?"

"I didn't hide them," the twin indignantly protested. "The cup was in
my lap when Rosslyn called that Janie was lost, and I forgot to put it