er,
sweeter and lighter it will be."

When we had written this down Miss Muffet remarked:

"Mrs. Deacon Ead's bread always takes the prize at the county fair. It
looks like pound-cake. I don't want you girls to make flabby, porous
bread, full of air-holes. I want you to learn how to knead it till it is
just like an India-rubber cushion."

"If the dough is soft won't it stick to our fingers?" said Marjorie,
with a dainty little shiver.

"Powder your hands very lightly with flour. That will keep the dough
from sticking," said Miss Muffet, "and you will gain a knack after a
while.

"5. The oven must be steadily hot, but not too quick, for bread. Hold
your hand in it while you count thirty, and it will be right for putting
in your bread.

"6. Grease your pans.

"7. When taking bread from the oven loosen the loaves from the pans,
stand them upright, and let them lean against something to keep them in
that position. Cover them lightly with a cloth.

"8. Do not put them away until they are cold."

We all gathered about the table, but were disappointed that there was
nothing for us to do except look on.

She took two quarts of flour and sifted it thoroughly into a large
wooden bowl. In one pint of tepid water she dissolved a
half-tablespoonful of salt and half a yeast cake. Pouring this into a
hollow in the middle of the flour she gradually drew the flour into it
from all sides, working it with swift, light touches until it was a
compact mass. She pounced and pulled and beat this till it was as smooth
and round as a ball, dusted a little flour over it, covered it with a
thick cloth and set it aside.

"That is all that can be done to-night, girls," she said. "Be here every
one of you at six in the morning, if Milly can be up so early. The bread
will be ready then for another kneading. You must not overlook the fact,
girls, that bread is not accommodating. It has to be attended to when
the proper time comes, whether it is convenient for the maker or not. If
neglected, it will be too light, or else heavy. Bread which is too light
has a sour taste, and is just as unpalatable as that which is heavy,
_i.e._, not raised enough, I mean."

In the morning our bread had risen to the top of the bowl, and had
cracks running in a criss-cross manner over its surface. Miss Muffet was
the first one to appear on the scene. She gave us a lesson in kneading.
Such patting and pounding, throwing over, tossing back and forth, as she