She snatched off the spice-box, and setting a kettle on the stove, boiled paste enough to paper the walls of a room.
Meanwhile Fly was making free with the nutmegs and soda, and the little cook could not remember how far along she had got with the cake.
"Children don't annoy you, I hope," said the doctor, seating the baby at the side of the table, opposite Mother Hubbard, and giving her a stick with a rag wound around the end of it, in order to paste pictures into a scrap-book.
"Thank you, doctor.

I never did like children half as well as dogs," replied Mother Hubbard, forcing a smile.

Then she tasted her cake slyly, to make sure whether she had put the butter in or not.
"Madam Hubbard, mim," said Lady Magnifico, "may I trouble you for a glass of water ?" "Mamma Hubbard, may I have a hangfiss to wipe off the pastry ?" Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard, and got a goblet for the lady; to the closet, and found a rag for the baby.
By that time she smelt something burning; it was eggs.

She had left the patent egg-beater on the stove by accident, and its contents were as black as a shoe.
"O, what a frightful, alarming odor!" cried Lady Magnifico.

"If somebody doesn't throw up a window! Madam, do tell us what's afire now!" "Mother Hubbard's got a dumb chill," said the doctor; "she won't speak." But Prudy was saying under breath, "Please, God, let me keep pleasant.
They don't mean any harm, and I _should_ be ashamed to get angry just about a play." "What ails you, Mother Hubbard?
'You look as blue as the skimmiest kind of skim-milk.'" "Do I?
Well, no wonder, with such troublesome boarders.