What would Cookie say if she knew?
In that oven she had been allowed to bake in fancy perfect little doll loaves, while Cookie baked them in reality.

Here she had watched the mysterious making of pink cream, had burned countless 'goes' of toffy, and cocoanut ice; and tasted all kinds of loveliness.

Dear old Cookie! Stealing about on tiptoe, seeking what she might devour, she found four small jam tarts and ate them, while the cook snored softly.
Then, by the table, that looked so like a great loaf-platter, she stood contemplating cook.

Old darling, with her fat, pale, crumply face! Hung to the dresser, opposite, was a little mahogany looking-glass tilted forward.

Nedda could see herself almost down to her toes.