once, like well-disciplined soldiers, stooping and rising together in
time, so that a foreign ambassador wrote to his court that he wished
his people could load and fire as well as these could knead. Such
praise a people never forgets.

When each troughful of paste was approved it was moulded with care
into the form of bricks, and with the aid of the engineer-in-chief, a
young genius who had gained the first prize in the school of
architecture, the majestic edifice was begun. Mother Mitchel herself
drew the plan; in following her directions, the young engineer showed
himself modest beyond all praise. He had the good sense to understand
that the architecture of tarts and pies had rules of its own, and that
therefore the experience of Mother Mitchel was worth all the
scientific theories in the world.

The inside of the monument was divided into as many compartments as
there were kinds of fruits. The walls were no less than four feet
thick. When they were finished, twenty-four ladders were set up, and
twenty-four experienced cooks ascended them. These first-class artists
were each of them armed with an enormous cooking spoon. Behind them,
on the lower rounds of the ladders, followed the kitchen boys,
carrying on their heads pots and pans filled to the brim with jam and
sweetmeats, each sort ready to be poured into its destined
compartment. This colossal labour was accomplished in one day, and
with wonderful exactness.

When the sweetmeats were used to the last drop, when the great spoons
had done all their work, the twenty-four cooks descended to earth
again. The intrepid Mother Mitchel, who had never quitted the spot,
now ascended, followed by the noble Fanfreluche, and dipped her finger
into each of the compartments, to assure herself that everything was
right. This part of her duty was not disagreeable, and many of the
scullions would have liked to perform it. But they might have lingered
too long over the enchanting task. As for Mother Mitchel, she had been
too well used to sweets to be excited now. She only wished to do her
duty and to insure success.

All went on well. Mother Mitchel had given her approbation. Nothing
was needed now but to crown the sublime and delicious edifice by
placing upon it the crust--that is, the roof, or dome. This delicate
operation was confided to the engineer-in-chief who now showed his
superior genius. The dome, made beforehand of a single piece, was
raised in the air by means of t