The aforementioned cake stand was simply packed to the brim with all manner of delicious goodies, including an array of Mr Kipling's Fondant Fancies, some home-made macaroons, half-dipped in chocolate, and the Rice Krispy cakes with which Christopher had arrived. Now, I'd never had any trouble with this cake stand before, so I must admit to be utterly amazed when I returned from the kitchen after pouring hot water onto freshly spooned-out leaves, placing the bone china tea service on a beautiful silver tray and making my way through to the sitting room.
The cake stand was, to all intents and purposes, empty. By which I mean that there was naught remaining but a scattering of cake crumbs, two Rice Krispy cakes and a smudge of pink icing where the best of the Fondant Fancies had once been enthroned. Chrissie, himself, was entirely unable to offer an explanation, though it was clear to see from his bulging eyes and, indeed, bulging cheeks, that something bizarre and inexplicable had taken place. I almost dropped the tea set, I now recall, seeing poor Chris try desperately to come to his senses; he was swallowing and very-nearly choking in such an alarming manner. Inexplicable; the situation truly had no rational explanation.
When he'd regained his composure, I was forced to apologise for the lack of cake, and then my eyes alighted on the two Rice Krispy cakes remaining. God bless Sir Christopher, his cheap and cheerful chocolate cereal creations had saved the day. I extended my hand, hooked an exquisite alabaster finger into the top of the cake stand and raised it slightly from the occasional.
'Rice Krispy cake?' I said, gently proffering the china stand.
'No thanks,' he replied. 'I'm not too keen on those.'
