hollow in the middle of the flour she gradually drew the flour into it
from all sides, working it with swift, light touches until it was a
compact mass. She pounced and pulled and beat this till it was as smooth
and round as a ball, dusted a little flour over it, covered it with a
thick cloth and set it aside.

"That is all that can be done to-night, girls," she said. "Be here every
one of you at six in the morning, if Milly can be up so early. The bread
will be ready then for another kneading. You must not overlook the fact,
girls, that bread is not accommodating. It has to be attended to when
the proper time comes, whether it is convenient for the maker or not. If
neglected, it will be too light, or else heavy. Bread which is too light
has a sour taste, and is just as unpalatable as that which is heavy,
_i.e._, not raised enough, I mean."

In the morning our bread had risen to the top of the bowl, and had
cracks running in a criss-cross manner over its surface. Miss Muffet was
the first one to appear on the scene. She gave us a lesson in kneading.
Such patting and pounding, throwing over, tossing back and forth, as she
gave that poor dough. But the dough must have enjoyed it, for it seemed
to grow lighter every minute.

After a full twenty minutes of this process the bread was set near the
fire for a second rising. A half-hour passed. Miss Muffet took it in
hand again, and again she pounced and patted, beat and pounded the
helpless mass, this time dividing it into three small loaves, which she
set near the fire for the final rising.

"Bread is nicer made in little loaves," she told us. "More convenient
for use on the table, easier to bake, and less likely to become dry."