"You
can pretend the cake made you sick if you want to, Ted."
"Pooh! who ever heard of a soldier getting sick on cake? Anyhow they
don't have cake in the army--lessen they capture it from the enemy."
"Well, you can pretend you did that," said Janet. "Now I'll put my
doll away," she went on, as she finished her piece of cake, "and well
play the soldier game. I'll get some red cloth to make the cross."
Janet looked "sweet," as her mother said afterward, when she had
wound a white cloth around her head, a red cross, rather ragged and
crooked, being pinned on in front.
The tent was made by draping a sheet from the bed across two chairs,
and under this shelter Teddy crawled. He stretched out on a blanket
which Janet had spread on the floor to be the hospital cot.
"Now you must groan, Ted," she said, as she looked in a glass to see
if her headpiece and cross were on straight.
"Groan? What for?"
"'Cause you've Been hurt in the war, or else you're sick from the
cake."
"Pooh! a little bit of cake like _that_ wouldn't make _me_ sick.
You've got to give me a _lot_ more if you want me to be real sick."
"Oh, Teddy Martin! I'm not going to play if you make fun like that
all the while. You've got to groan and pretend you've been shot.
Never mind about the cake."
"All right. I'll be shot then. But you've got to give me a lot of
chocolate pills to make me get better.
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