which he had invented, in a large new wash-tub. Then came the baking,
which for two days filled the house with spicy, plum-puddingy odors; then
the great feat of icing the big square loaves; and then the cutting up, in
which all took part. There was much careful measurement that the slices
might be an exact fit; and the kitchen rang with bright laughter and chat
as Katy and Clover wielded the sharp bread-knives, and the others fitted
the portions into their boxes, and tied the ribbons in crisp little bows.
Many delicious crumbs and odd corners and fragments fell to the share of
the younger workers; and altogether the occasion struck Amy as so
enjoyable that she announced--with her mouth full--that she had changed
her mind, and that Mabel might get married as often as she pleased, if she
would have cake like _that_ every time,--a liberality of permission which
Mabel listened to with her invariable waxen smile.

When all was over, and the last ribbons tied, the hundreds of little boxes
were stacked in careful piles on a shelf of the inner closet of the
doctor's office to wait till they were wanted,--an arrangement which
naughty Clover pronounced eminently suitable, since there should always
be a doctor close at hand where there was so much wedding-cake. But before
all this was accomplished, came what Katy, in imitation of one of Miss
Edgeworth's heroines, called "The Day of Happy Letters."




CHAPTER II.

THE DAY OF HAPPY LETTERS.