Cassandra By Chance. Betty Neels

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      He gave her a suspicious look. ‘No—no, thank you, miss. I was to say that the cake was very good. I’ll be going.’

      They wished each other good-night and she shut the door upon him and stood leaning against it, wondering why the ogre should want to see her again. He hadn’t liked her, had he? he had said so, not in so many words, perhaps—all the same…perhaps it was the cake. She went back to her embroidery, her mind already busy with the making of another cake, and possibly an apple pie. Her pastry was excellent, and men liked pies.