"Let's!" cried Nan.  
"Yes, let's!" echoed Flossie.
 
"I want to help too," put in Freddie, "Want to make a cake all by my own self."
 
"Freddie can make a little cake while we make a big one," said Bert.
 
It was on an afternoon just a week before Christmas and Mrs. Bobbsey had gone out to do some shopping. Dinah was also away, on a visit to some relatives, so the children had the house all to themselves.
 
It was Bert who spoke¹ about cake-making first. Queer that a boy should think of it, wasn't it? But Bert was very fond of cake, and did quite some grumbling³ when none was to be had.
 
"It ought to be easy to make a nice big plain cake," said Bert. "I've seen Dinah do it lots of times. She just mixes up her milk and eggs and butter, and sifts⁴ in the flour, and there you are."
 
"Much you know about it!" declared Nan. "If it isn't just put together right, it will be as heavy as lead."
 
"We might take the recipe out of mamma's cook-book," went on Bert; and then the cry went up with which I have opened this chapter.
 
The twins were soon in the kitchen, which Dinah had left spotlessly clean and in perfect order.
 
"We mustn't make a muss," warned Nan. "If we do, Dinah will never forgive us."
 
"As if we couldn't clean it up again," said Bert loftily.
 
Over the kitchen table they spread some old newspapers, and then Nan brought forth⁵ the big bowl in which her mother or the cook usually mixed the cake batter⁶.
 
"Bert, you get the milk and sugar," said Nan, and began to roll up her sleeves. "Flossie, you can get the butter."
 
She would have told Freddie to get something, too—just to start them all to work—but Freddie was out of sight.
 
He had gone into the pantry, where the flour barrel stood. He did not know that Nan intended to use the prepared flour, which was on the shelf. The door worked on a spring, so it closed behind him, shutting him out from the sight of the others.
 
Taking off the cover of the barrel, Freddie looked inside. The barrel was almost empty, only a few inches of flour remaining at the bottom. There was a flour scoop⁷ in the barrel, but he could reach neither this nor the flour itself.
 
"I'll have to stand on the bench," he said to himself and pulled the bench into position. Then he stood on it and bent⁸ down into the barrel as far as possible.
 
The others were working in the kitchen when they heard a strange thump⁹ and then a spluttering yell.
 
"It's Freddie," said Nan. "Bert, go and see what he is doing in the pantry."
 
Bert ran to the pantry door and pulled it open. A strange sight met his gaze. Out of the top of the barrel stuck Freddie's legs, with a cloud of flour dust rising around them. From the bottom of the barrel came a succession of coughs, sneezes, and yells for help.
 
"Freddie has fallen into the flour barrel!" he cried, and lost no time in catching¹⁰ his brother by the feet and pulling him out. It was hard work and in the midst of it the flour barrel fell over on its side, scattering¹¹ the flour over the pantry and partly on the kitchen floor.
 
"Oh! oh! oh!" roared Freddie as soon as he could catch his breath. "Oh, my! oh, my!"
 
"Oh, Freddie, why did you go into the barrel?" exclaimed Nan, wiping off her hands and running to him. "Did you ever see such a sight before?"
 
Freddie was digging at the flour in his eyes. He was white from head to feet, and coughing and spluttering.
 
"Wait, I'll get the whisk-broom," said Bert, and ran for it.
 
"Brush off his hair first, and then I'll wipe his face," came from Nan.
 
"Here's the wash-rag," put in little Flossie, and catching it up, wringing¹² wet, she began to wipe off Freddie's face before anybody could stop her.
 
"Flossie! Flossie! You mustn't do that!" said Bert. "Don't you see you are making paste of............