t hang up that
towel that has fallen down, Florence, and then we'll go downstairs and
shut up the rest of the house; by that time Bubbles will be through her
work, and we can all play till it is time to get dinner."

Bubbles had just emptied her dish-pan and was about to scour the knives
when they entered the kitchen.

"Hurry up, Bubbles," said Dimple, "so we can all go out and play. We
want you to take care of Celestine and Rubina, while we go out shopping.
Mamma said we might use the pieces in this," holding out a calico bag.
"That is, we are just going to roll them up and have them for dry goods.
The dry goods shop is to be at the end of the porch, where the bench is.
We have cut out a great big newspaper man to sell the goods. We'll have
to pin him against the railing, Florence, or he won't stand up, he is so
limp. Isn't he fine and tall? His name is Mr. Star, because we cut him
out of the _Evening Star_."

Their play proved to be so very interesting that it was after twelve
o'clock before the little housekeepers remembered that they had a dinner
to prepare, and that the making and baking of their apple pie would take
some time. Then it appeared that Bubbles, in her haste to join the play,
had forgotten the fire, which was nearly out.

"Never mind, we'll put in some wood," concluded Dimple, cheerfully.
"I've seen Sylvy do it lots of times, to hurry up the oven. Run,
Bubbles, and get some wood. Then you can pare the apples, while I make
the crust."

"Let me pare the apples," suggested Florence; "it is such fun to put
them on that little thing and turn the crank, while the skin comes off
so easily."

"Well, you do that," agreed Dimple. "And Bubbles can set the table."

"Why doesn't this apple go right?" said Florence. "It wabbles around so
and--there!--it has gone bouncing off to the other side of the kitchen;
how provoking!"

"It is a sort of 'skew-jawed' one," pronounced Dimple. "I can never do
anything with those on the parer. Pick out the ones that are perfectly
round and smooth, and they will go all right. I wonder how much
shortening I ought to put in. Does that look like enough to you?"

Florence viewed the pan critically. "I don't know," she replied,
doubtfully. "I don't believe I know much about it; it looks like a
pretty big lump."

"Oh, I'll call it enough," decided Dimple. "There, it is ready to roll
out. Somehow, it doesn't roll very easily."

"Let me try," offered Florence, who, having fini