Dear Diary,
Last night, Grandfather gave a splendid dinner party in honor of Grandmother's birthday. All yesterday morn was spent in preparations. While Grandmother fitted her beautiful new dress upstairs, I slipped down into the kitchen to help bake the delicacies. At first the servants objected to letting me help, but they were obliged to concede when they remembered Grandmother's words. "My granddaughters are to always have all their desires, and all their commands are to be obeyed."
One cannot refuse the call of the kitchen! I set to work right away to make the most scrumptious, moist, ever-so-delicious birthday cake anyone had ever tasted. Of course, I only learned it from the best. From my early youth, Mother taught me the joys of cooking. With much trial and error, I believe I have reached mastery, except, perhaps, in chicken cooking!
I spent the whole morning hidden in the kitchen baking. I was sure the cake had turned out splendidly, so I scrambled upstairs to fit my own gown. I found Vanna in our room upstairs. Apparently, she hadn't been satisfied with her attire. Sarah, the seamstress, seemed at her wits end, for Vanna had demanded this change or that done to the gown and she still wasn't satisfied. I suppose she's like Grandmother in that. Grandmother was still fitting her dress as well.
At long last, the time for the festivities arrived. We all clapped when Grandmother came down the grand staircase dressed in her emerald ball gown. She had full hoops and a powdered wig that made her look so lovely. She had diamond jewelry and lace ruffles. I don't think anyone ever had a beautiful Grandmother.
My sisters and I were dressed finely ourselves. Vanna was adorned in creamy white and Kat in a light pink satin. I was wearing a rich blue. It was all so wonderful, except that I felt I would suffocate, for I was smothered in perfume and squeezed tightly in my dress.
The evening was going along splendidly. During dinner, I could hardly eat from excitement at the thought of how perfect my cake would be. I was so eager for the praise it would receive. In my mind I pictured drooling admiration on everyone's part. Of course, no one would know that I made it. That would humiliate my grandparents before all their friends, who don't lift a finger and who have all their meals cooked for them. My fine Grandparents would feel embarrassed if everyone knew what poor, working girls their granddaughters are. No, none would know who the great chef was, but I was sure in my puffed-up head that my cake would receive such praise, I would bask in it for days.
Finally, the servants cleared the supper dishes and brought out the tea. I felt I would fairly jump out of seat with anticipation. Mind you, I was not in the least nervous. In fact, I was so sure of my skills that I had not even tasted the cake!
At last, it came. How beautiful it looked, wheeled out on a silver cart and placed on a golden platter! Grandmother received the first piece. She took a mouthful, and I stared at her with such an overwhelming eagerness. Oh but such a true book the Bible is! I shall forevermore be reminded of the verse: "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. "
Happy was Grandmother's face as she put her fork to her mouth. Yet, as she consumed my cake her face changed. She looked ill, then she turned raspberry red. Oh! Something is dreadfully wrong! Thought I. Soon ladies and gentlemen all around the table began sputtering. Grandmother put her napkin to her mouth. She can't spit it out! No, oh no please don't spit it out! I willed. Yet she daintily did so. My face burned in anguish. Hot tears stung in my eyes. Turning to my own dish, I tasted my own masterpiece. Oh, my! What a horrid cake. It was pathetically inedible, and I was mortified.
The tears now streamed down my face.
"What is wrong my dear?" I heard Grandmother ask me. I knew she was trying to sound nonchalant. I choked up a sob, but I was certain it came out as a wail. Then I fled the room.
If you would ask me, diary, have I learned my lesson? Yes, yes I have. I shall always walk in the most humble state. My punishmen was so harsh. No where in all of the American colonies will you ever find a girl filled with more humility than I. And above all, I shall never attempt to cook anything ever again!
Grandmother knows all, but I feel little better.
A maiden in distress,
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