Good Cheer Stories Every Child Should Know | Page 4

in flocks to the feast, but
they might eat as they liked, it would never be missed, so thick was the
carpet. It was a great chance for the bold little things.
All the ingredients for the tart were now ready. Upon order of Mother

Mitchel they began to peel the apples and pears and to take out the pips.
The weather was so pleasant that the girls sat out of doors, upon the
ground, in long rows. The sun looked down upon them with a merry
face. Each of the little workers had a big earthen pan, and peeled
incessantly the apples which the boys brought them. When the pans
were full, they were carried away and others were brought. They had
also to carry away the peels, or the girls would have been buried in
them. Never was there such a peeling before.
Not far away, the children were stoning the plums, cherries, and
peaches. This work, being the easiest, was given to the youngest and
most inexperienced hands, which were all first carefully washed, for
Mother Mitchel, though not very particular about her own toilet, was
very neat in her cooking. The schoolhouse, long unused (for in the
country of the Greedy they had forgotten everything), was arranged for
this second class of workers, and the cat was their inspector. He walked
round and round, growling if he saw the fruit popping into any of the
little mouths. If they had dared, how they would have pelted him with
plum stones! But no one risked it. Fanfreluche was not to be trifled
with.
In those days powdered sugar had not been invented, and to grate it all
was no small affair. It was the work that the grocers used to dislike the
most; both lungs and arms were soon tired. But Mother Mitchel was
there to sustain them with her unequalled energy. She chose the
labourers from the most robust of the boys. With mallet and knife she
broke the cones into round pieces, and they grated them till they were
too small to hold. The bits were put into baskets to be pounded. One
would never have expected to find all the thousand pounds of sugar
again. But a new miracle was wrought by Mother Mitchel. It was all
there!
It was then the turn of the ambitious scullions to enter the lists and
break the seven thousand eggs for Mother Mitchel. It was not hard to
break them--any fool could do that; but to separate adroitly the yolks
and the whites demands some talent, and, above all, great care. We dare
not say that there were no accidents here, no eggs too well scrambled,

no baskets upset. But the experience of Mother Mitchel had counted
upon such things, and it may truly be said that there were never so
many eggs broken at once, or ever could be again. To make an omelette
of them would have taken a saucepan as large as a skating pond, and
the fattest cook that ever lived could not hold the handle of such a
saucepan.
But this was not all. Now that the yolks and whites were once divided,
they must each be beaten separately in wooden bowls, to give them the
necessary lightness. The egg beaters were marshalled into two brigades,
the yellow and the white. Every one preferred the white, for it was
much more amusing to make those snowy masses that rose up so high
than to beat the yolks, which knew no better than to mix together like
so much sauce. Mother Mitchel, with her usual wisdom, had avoided
this difficulty by casting lots. Thus, those who were not on the white
side had no reason to complain of oppression. And truly, when all was
done, the whites and the yellows were equally tired. All had cramps in
their hands.
Now began the real labour of Mother Mitchel. Till now she had been
the commander-in-chief--the head only; now she put her own finger in
the pie. First, she had to make sweetmeats and jam out of all the
immense quantity of fruit she had stored. For this, as she could only do
one kind at a time, she had ten kettles, each as big as a dinner table.
During forty-eight hours the cooking went on; a dozen scullions blew
the fire and put on the fuel. Mother Mitchel, with a spoon that four
modern cooks could hardly lift, never ceased stirring and trying the
boiling fruit. Three expert tasters, chosen from the most dainty, had
orders to report progress every half hour.
It is unnecessary to state that all the sweetmeats were perfectly
successful, or that they were of exquisite consistency, colour, and
perfume. With Mother Mitchel there was no such word as fail. When
each