Cj

diminished the pyramid of colored eggs, eaten of stewed carp, roast fowls, a jowl
of salmon and some neat’s tongues.

“Well, Mistress Phoebe, do I hear you sighing to cut the tansy?” said the
bishop, at last, “or was it Robin ?”

“Tt was not I,” answered Robin. “Though Id be glad to see it cut.”

There was laughter at Robin’s frankness.

“Then, Apple-Blossom, it was you; come here to my side, and plunge this
deep into the cake.” And the bishop held a sharp knife toward Phoebe.

* Shall I, Uncle?” she asked timidly. He nodded. So Phoebe cut the cake,
and in a few moments there was such a nibbling of tansy cake as lasted for the
whole year. And not a crumb left over.

“This be a happy Easter,” whispered Phoebe to Robin.

“Tt be,” said Robin to Phoebe, his mouth full of cake.

M. Carrie Hyde.