I got the butter ready, and forgot to put it in, and that's why the cake's so tough." "Never mind," said the doctor, very amiable as long as he could make his joke.

"It is pretty tough cake, ma'am; but it's always tougher where there's none." "There's one thing about it," said Mother Hubbard, a little relieved; "it's sweet in the middle, and you needn't eat the bitter part, where it's burnt." "It's my practice to mix the bitter with the sweet," said the doctor, waving the butter-knife.

"In this way, Mother H., your black-valley cake is almost as good as pills." "I ate a pill," observed Fly, "and 'twas worser'n this!" "You ate a pill, child?
When?
Where?
I'll warrant that's what ails you." "No, it don't ail me now.

I spitted it out." After nibbling a few crackers, and the inside of the cake, the happy family moved away from the table, hungrier than when they had sat down.
"What is home without a mother ?" sang Horace, in a plaintive voice; and Dotty joined in, with emphasis.
Prudy looked as low-spirited as the "black-valley cake." "I hope Uncle Augustus will be able to come home to-morrow.

I declare, we are real cruel not to feel worse about his being sick away off there in a hotel." "You'd better believe he gets things to eat," responded Lady Magnifico, aside to the doctor.