Everybody began bidding, and a pound of sugar actually went for five dollars, to old Mr.McDonald, who had obstinately refused to give up to his opponent, Mr.Barber, in the bidding contest.

Mr.Harlowe paid heavily for a cook book, while David Nesbit, for fifty cents, drew a splendid big fruit cake.
"It is so fortunate that that fruit cake fell into the hands of one of my friends," remarked Hippy, as David was about to walk off, his prize under his arm.

"I adore fruit cake." "That's no sign that you will ever get a chance at this one," replied David calmly.
"I shall, I know I shall," retorted Hippy, "You wouldn't betray my young confidence and dispel my fond hopes by eating it all yourself.

You deserve an awful case of indigestion if you do." "Children, children, stop squabbling," laughed Anne who, looking like a very demure little gypsy, had slipped up unnoticed.

"Don't worry, Hippy, I'll see that you are remembered when the famous cake is cut." "I feel relieved," said Hippy, giving her one of his Cheshire Cat grins.
"I propose that you leave your treasure with this gypsy maid, David, for the time is flying and we have a great and glorious surprise to spring." "See you later, Anne," said David, looking at his watch.