The Affair of the Pilfered Pastry - Conclusion

A tiny doll, whose under-drawers could conceivably be created from a bit of cloth hardly larger than a postage stamp, is clearly no match for the volumes of scenic drapery that now enfolded me. "Blast!", I thought, "That miscreant will steal away and with her the pastry for the party scene!" I knew just how much the actors enjoyed playing that scene. "Do not eat while in costume" was a hard and fast rule with The Stage Manager. Act I; Scene 11 afforded the cast the only opportunity for nourishment in two hours and thirty-five minutes.

The curtains muffled the sounds from the wings and stage. I could not discern what direction the thief had taken, or if indeed, she was not still there, waiting to do me further injury. I struggled free of the curtains at last and flung myself onto the stage floor, ready for any comers. And there she stood, her back to me, a petite nun, hungrily devouring the the last of the ladyfingers.

"Unhand those ladyfingers!", I demanded. She spun about, guilt written all over her child-like countenance. "Miss V!", I exclaimed, "You? I had not expected this of you!"





Between sobs, Miss V. related her sorrowful tale. "As an actress, I tried to develop the virtues of poverty and obedience expected of a Sister. I wished to be a credit to the production. Night after night, however, the tantalizing aroma of buttery pastries tempted me beyond what I was able to bear...I succumbed to that temptation. Forgive me."

I ask you, Dear Reader, can we not forgive this bit of pastry pilfering?

'Course we can - piece o' cake!