Later on, Miss Darling drew up a list of stalls and took the names of the children who wanted to help. Some of the class had stalls in mind, while others were happy to help with anything.
“What about you, Angela?” asked Miss Darling.
“I’m running a cake stall with Maisie and Laura,” said Angela firmly.
Tiffany stared. “YOU CAN’T!” she squawked. “I’m doing a cake stall. It was my idea!”
“I thought of it first,” said Angela.
“You did NOT!” cried Tiffany.
“I did, you stole my idea!” said Angela.
Tiffany pulled a face. “LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE!” she sang.
“Girls, girls!” sighed Miss Darling, holding up her hands. “It really doesn’t matter who thought of it first. If you both want to run a cake stall, why don’t you do it together?”
Tiffany stuck her nose in the air. No way was she working with that big-mouth Angela. Angela folded her arms. No way was she working with that snooty show-off Tiffany.
“Very well,” groaned Miss Darling, giving up. “We’ll have two cake stalls at the fair. I’m sure they’ll both be a great success.”
Tiffany smiled to herself. She knew whose cake stall would be the best.
Angela narrowed her eyes. You wait, she thought. OUR cake stall’s going to be the star of the fair.
When Angela got home she found her mum in the kitchen on her laptop.
“Mum,” she said. “You know cupcakes – are they easy to make?”
Mrs Nicely looked up. “Cupcakes? They’re not difficult. Why?”
“Because I’m probably going to need a hundred,” replied Angela.
“A HUNDRED?” cried Mrs Nicely. “What on earth for?”
“The Spring Fair,” explained Angela. “Me, Laura and Maisie are running a cake stall – and it’s got to be better than Tiffany’s.”
Mrs Nicely rolled her eyes. She might have known that Tiffany Charmers would be involved. Hardly a week went by without Mrs Charmers boasting about her daughter’s latest brilliant achievement. Well, this time Tiffany wouldn’t have it her own way.
“And who’ll be making all these cupcakes?” Mrs Nicely asked.
“We will – me and my friends,” answered Angela. “But we might need a teeny bit of help.”
She threw her arms round her mum.
“Go on then,” laughed Mrs Nicely. “As long as you help clear up and don’t leave a mess.”
“I promise!” cried Angela.