three
o'clock
She made elaborate plans of what they were to do and see , beginning with the East End and the National Gallery , and ending with sunrise from Parliament Hill ; but she somehow knew that nothing would happen as she had designed . If only the first moment were not different from what she hoped ! She sat there so long that she rose quite stiff , and so hungry that she could not help going home and stealing into the kitchen . It was three o'clock , and the old cook , as usual , asleep in an armchair , with her apron thrown up between her face and the fire . What would Cookie say if she knew ? In that oven she had been allowed to bake in fancy perfect little doll loaves , while Cookie baked them in reality . Here she had watched the mysterious making of pink cream , had burned countless ` goes ' of toffy , and cocoanut ice ; and tasted all kinds of loveliness .