At the upper end of the room, toward which the cat was now headed with Patter after her, was a table of fancy cakes. It was almost as small and light a table as that on which the paper flowers had been piled. Behind it stood an elderly lady who had made most of the cakes herself, intending to sell them for the benefit of the church. This elderly lady saw the dog and the cat and the crowd of chasing boys coming toward her table of cakes, and she cried: