Beezus and Ramona - Beverly Cleary [27]
When Beezus went into the living room, Mother switched off the vacuum cleaner, which had been sucking up the crumbs Ramona had sprinkled on the rug. “Aunt Beatrice said she would be delighted to bring a cake. She knows a bakery that makes very special birthday cakes,” she said, smiling at Beezus. “You mustn’t let Ramona spoil your birthday.”
Beezus felt a little better. She curled up on the davenport again with 202 Things to Do on a Rainy Afternoon and read about making Christmas tree ornaments out of cellophane straws, until she heard her aunt’s car turn into the driveway. Then she flung her book aside and ran out to greet her.
“Happy birthday, darling!” cried Aunt Beatrice, as she set the brake and opened the door of her yellow convertible.
Joyfully Beezus ran over to the car and kissed her aunt. “Did you bring the cake?” she asked.
“I certainly did,” answered Aunt Beatrice.
“The best birthday cake I could find. And that isn’t all I brought. Here, help me carry these packages while I carry the cake. We mustn’t let anything happen to this cake!”
And the way Aunt Beatrice laughed made Beezus laugh too. Her aunt gave her three packages, two large and one small, to carry.
“The little package is for Ramona,” explained Aunt Beatrice. “So she won’t feel left out.”
Mother came out of the house and hugged her sister. “Hello, Bea,” she said. “I’m so glad you could come. What would I ever do without you?”
“It’s good to see you, Dorothy,” answered Aunt Beatrice. “And what’s an aunt for if she can’t come to the rescue with a birthday cake once in a while?”
As Beezus watched her mother and her aunt, arm in arm, go into the house, she thought how different they were—Mother so tall and comfortable-looking and Aunt Beatrice so small and gay—and yet how happy they looked together. Smiling, Beezus carried the gifts into the house. Aunt Beatrice always brought such beautiful packages, wrapped in fancy paper and tied with big, fluffy bows.
Aunt Beatrice handed the cake box to Mother. “Be sure you put it in a safe place,” she said, and laughed again.
“May I open the packages now?” Beezus asked eagerly, although she felt it was almost too bad to untie such beautiful bows.
“Of course you may,” answered Aunt Beatrice.
“Where’s Ramona?”
A subdued Ramona came out of the bedroom to receive her present. She tore off the wrapping, but Beezus painstakingly untied the ribbon on one of her presents and removed the paper carefully so she wouldn’t tear it. Her new book, 202 Things to Do on a Rainy Afternoon, suggested pasting pretty paper on a gallon ice-cream carton to make a wastebasket.
“Oh, Aunt Beatrice,” exclaimed Beezus, as she opened her first package. It was a real grown-up sewing box. It had two sizes of scissors, a fat red pincushion that looked like a tomato, an emery bag that looked like a ripe strawberry, and a tape measure that pulled out of a shiny box. When Beezus pushed the button on the box, the tape measure snapped back inside. The box also had needles, pins, and a thimble. Beezus never wore a thimble, but she thought it would be nice to have one in case she ever wanted to use one. “Oh, Aunt Beatrice,” she said, “it’s the most wonderful sewing box in the whole world. I’ll make you two pot holders for Christmas!” Then, as Aunt Beatrice laughed, Beezus clapped her hand over her mouth. The pot holder was supposed to be a surprise.
Ramona had unwrapped a little steam shovel made of red and yellow plastic, which she was now pushing happily around the rug.
Breathlessly Beezus lifted the lid of the second box. “Oh, Aunt Beatrice!” she exclaimed, as she lifted out a dress that was a lovely shade of blue.
“It’s just the right shade of blue to match