14 KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES.

Enter Mrs. Smit.

Already !
Mrs. §. Have you drawn the batch yet ?
ALF. (Uneasily.) No!

It isn’t drawn. (Aside.) She’ll find it’s coloured, though.
Mrs. 8. (Running to oven door.) What do I see? What sight my

soul amazes P
The cakes all burning like—in fact, like blazes !
Wretch! you shall pay for this.

ALF. (Humbly.) Send in the bill!
Mrs. 8. You will repent it.
ALF. Possibly I will;

Nor need materials for repentance lack,
I’ve made the ashes and expect the sack.

 

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—— - ee ne ey ov matte.
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