nobody will hardly ever let me. I can make the bestest cookies if any
one else just makes the dough. So if you don't feel just prezactly well,
you can sit in the rocking-chair, and I will do it all."

"Thank you, deary, but I'm feeling pretty well to-day, so we will work
together. Let me tie this apron around you."

Then Aunty Stevens brought out the dearest little moulding-board and
rolling-pin, and drew out of a corner a small table.

"O isn't everything about this just too cunning? Did these used to be
Miss Dorothy's?" said Ethelwyn in a rapture, Mrs. Stevens nodded.

"Here's your dough, dear. Now roll it out to fit this little plate."

This took time, for it persisted in rolling out long and slim, and not
at all the shape of the plate, but at last it was fitted in.

"Now what comes?" said the little cook, lifting a red and floury face.

"A thick layer of these apples--no, just a layer of sugar and
flour--then the crust won't soak. Now the apples. Sugar them well. Put
any of these spices on that you wish."

"I like the taste of cinnamon, and spice-oil, but nutmegs are so cunning
to grate. I b'lieve I'll put 'em all in," said Ethelwyn, critically
studying the spice shakers.

"Now dot the apples over with butter, a dash of cold water, and a
sprinkle of flour. Now roll out your top crust. Cut little slits for it