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"The nicest I ever drank," said Diana. "It's ever so much nicer than Mrs. Lynde's, although she brags of hers so much. It doesn't taste a bit like hers."

"I should think Marilla's raspberry cordial would prob'ly be much nicer than Mrs. Lynde's," said Anne loyally.

"Marilla is a famous cook.

She is trying to teach me to cook but I assure you, Diana, it is uphill work.

There's so little scope for imagination in cookery.

You just have to go by rules.

The last time I made a cake I forgot to put the flour in.

I was thinking the loveliest story about you and me, Diana.

I thought you were desperately ill with smallpox and everybody deserted you, but I went boldly to your bedside and nursed you back to life; and then I took the smallpox and died and I was buried under those poplar trees in the graveyard and you planted a rosebush by my grave and watered it with your tears; and you never, never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you.

Oh, it was such a pathetic tale, Diana.

The tears just rained down over my cheeks while I mixed the cake.

But I forgot the flour and the cake was a dismal failure.

Flour is so essential to cakes, you know.

Marilla was very cross and I don't wonder.

I'm a great trial to her.

She was terribly mortified about the pudding sauce last week.

We had a plum pudding for dinner on Tuesday and there was half the pudding and a pitcherful of sauce left over.

Marilla said there was enough for another dinner and told me to set it on the pantry shelf and cover it.

I meant to cover it just as much as could be, Diana, but when I carried it in I was imagining I was a nun-of course I'm a Protestant but I imagined I was a Catholic-taking the veil to bury a broken heart in cloistered seclusion; and I forgot all about covering the pudding sauce.

I thought of it next morning and ran to the pantry.

Diana, fancy if you can my extreme horror at finding a mouse drowned in that pudding sauce! I lifted the mouse out with a spoon and threw it out in the yard and then I washed the spoon in three waters.

Marilla was out milking and I fully intended to ask her when she came in if I'd give the sauce to the pigs; but when she did come in I was imagining that I was a frost fairy going through the woods turning the trees red and yellow, whichever they wanted to be, so I never thought about the pudding sauce again and Marilla sent me out to pick apples.

Well, Mr. and Mrs. Chester Ross from Spencervale came here that morning.

You know they are very stylish people, especially Mrs. Chester Ross.

When Marilla called me in dinner was all ready and everybody was at the table.

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