page.
Oh, thank goodness you turned the page!
That summer, Silver Bell was seven fairy years old. Fairy years are different from our years, so it is a long, long time between birthdays. That is why fairies look forward to their birthdays so very much.
“What sort of cake would you like this year, Silver?” asked Rosie. The sisters were in the garden behind their fairy house, fetching water from Deepwater Spring.
“I think Silver should have a carrot cake,” said Clara. “Carrot cakes can be quite healthy for a fairy.”
“Better for a rabbit,” said Lily. “Right, Squeakie?”
Squeak squeaked.
Silver flew over to the handle and started pumping.
“Hold on, Silver!” said Clara. “You need to prime it first.”
If you haven’t pumped springwater recently, you might have forgotten, as Silver had, that the pump must be topped up to get the water flowing. The sisters always left a small jug of water near the pump for that very purpose.
“This will start things up,” said Clara.
Silver pumped the creaky handle up and down, up and down. The water gurgled, sputtered and then came out in a gush.
“It’s freezing!” Silver laughed.
“Mind my shoes!” said Lily. She had painted them herself and she was very fond of them.
“If I were Silver,” said Rosie, carefully filling their water jugs, one at a time, “I think I would like to make my own choice of birthday cake.”
“I would like to make my own choice,” Silver said. Cakes, of course, were the Bakewell sisters’ speciality. Silver remembered the splendid cake she had had at their fairy house last summer. “Could we have a blueberry cake?” she asked.
“Coomada, coomada!” said Squeak.
“Yes, you love berries, don’t you?” said Rosie, sweeping up baby Squeak in her arms. Squeak had a language all of her own, which her sisters understood.
Clara, Rosie, Lily and Silver headed back to the house with their jugs of water. It was hard work.
“I won’t mind being grown up so we can just magic water whenever we want,” said Lily. “How heavy these are!”
Silver was still thinking about her birthday cake. “Could we make a practice cake today, do you think?” she asked.
“There are one or two bushes where the blueberries are already ripe,” Rosie smiled.
“Not down near Troll Hollow, I hope,” said Clara gravely.
“Nowhere near it,” said Rosie. She shivered. “I stay well clear of Troll Hollow and the awful trolls who live there.”
They all thought about the trolls and their terrible mischief for a moment.
“No, the berries are on the east side of Sunrise Hill. We’ll be fine there.”
“I’d go with you,” said Lily. “But I might catch my wings on the bushes.”
“My wings are not as delicate as yours,” said Rosie. “So I don’t mind going.”
“Carrot cake would be more practical,” Clara said.
But Rosie was already off, with Squeak in one arm and an empty acorn cap in the other, to pick berries for her sister.
Once the water jugs were in the pantry and covered with tea towels, Clara put some wood in the oven to get it hot.
“Normally I’d let Lily mix the batter,” said Clara, “as she’s the third oldest. But she must be out looking for sea glass again.”
“I’ll do it,” said Silver.
“All right,” said Clara, “you can do it. If you pay attention and follow the recipe.”
“I’m not looking for sea glass,” called Lily from upstairs. “I’m trying on my gown for the Fairy Ball.”
“The Fairy Ball?” cried Silver. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Queen Mab hasn’t even set a date for the ball yet, Silver.” Clara shook her head. “Lily just likes any excuse to try on her ball gowns.”
“I heard that!” said Lily. She came to the top of the stairs in the most elegant pale pink dress of fine cotton. She’d topped it with a tartan cape.
“I don’t know how you do it, Lily,” said Clara. “On anyone else that would look ridiculous.”
“Rosie says you have flair,” said Silver.
“I know! I do!” said Lily.
Clara heaved a long sigh. “It gets so chilly at night, Lily. You won’t be wearing that flimsy gown if the ball is held in late summer.”
“I’ve heard it won’t be,” sang Lily, and she flew off to put together another creation.
“I’m definitely going this year,” said Silver. “I’ll be eight years old in one little week! Queen Mab will have to let me in.”
“If you are eight years old at the time of the ball, then of course you will go,” said Clara. “But not a moment before.”
Silver sifted the flour into a fragile pile.
“I love sifting flour,” she said.
“Look – you’ve got it all over the table,” said Clara, as she creamed the butter and sugar. “Sweep that up, please.”
Silver swept it up, though most of it went on the floor.
“Now for the eggs, Silver,” Clara said. “Just give me a minute to butter the pan. I really should have done that before we started.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Then I’ll watch as you crack.”
If Clara had thought about it, she would have known that it’s pretty hard to ask someone to wait to crack an egg, especially if that someone is Silver. Clara might have mentioned, too, that Silver should check the recipe before she took the next step. Or asked someone to help.
But Lily was busy upstairs.
And Rosie was still out with Squeak.
And Clara didn’t remind Silver to follow the instructions.
And Silver didn’t follow the instructions.
Crack.
Crack.
If you think Silver smashed the eggs against the bowl and filled the batter with shells... you are only partially right. What she also didn’t remember was—
“Not like that!” cried Clara.