Here's a lark pie — I know what it is, for I saw
Joanna making it. Now we'll have this and be off."
"You must not, Ransom," Daisy urged, anxiously.
But Ransom seized the pie from its place, and proceeded to cut
into it, seeing that nobody was near to hinder him.
"Ransom, you ought not to do it," pleaded Daisy. "You ought to
wait your turn. You are worse than Fido."
"Am I?" said Ransom, fiercely. "Take that! Mind your own
affairs, and let mine alone. You are not queen here yet, if
you think you are."
A tolerably smart box on the ear was the accompaniment to this
speech. Nobody was near. Alexander, after joining his friend
in a meringue or two with a cream cake, not feeling quite
comfortable in the connection, had moved off. So did Ransom
now, but he carried his pie with him, and called the other two
boys to bear him company in making lunch of it. Preston was
much too gentlemanly a fellow to take part even of a lark pie
in such circumstances; he walked off in disdain, leaving
Ransom and Alexander to do what they liked. And they liked the
pie, so well that I am bound to say nothing of it remained
very soon excepting the dish. Even the bones were swallowed by
Fido.
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