ul cake, perfectly round and very smooth and brown.
"But the icing!" said Sister aloud. "There's no ICING! I s'pose Molly didn't have time."
If Sister had stopped to think, she would have remembered that all the birthday cakes Molly made--and she made seven every year for the Morrisons, and one for Grandmother Hastings--were always iced with pink or white or chocolate icing.
But, you see, she didn't stop to think, and when she discovered a bowl of lovely creamy white stuff on the small table between the windows, this small girl decided that she would ice the cake and save Molly the trouble.
There was a little film of water over the top of the bowl, but Sister took a wooden spoon and stirred it carefully, and the water mixed nicely with the white stuff, so that she had a bowl filled with the smoothest, whitest "icing" any cook could ask for.
"I'll get a silver knife to spread it with," said Sister, who had often watched Molly, and knew what to do.
She brought the knife