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Aunt Ada put her pencil down and asked her why on earth a bride would want such words on a cake. Dorothy laughed and said her Walter was the sweetest man in the county, and she was the wicked one who'd caught him. So Aunt Ada piped the letters herself, curling the tails of the E until they looked like a cat's whiskers, and she tucked a dozen wrapped boiled sweets in twists of waxed paper around the tiers. She also did something nobody asked her to do. She pressed a tiny folded slip of paper into the stalk of one cherry, the one that sat at the very top, and sealed it with a drop of sugar syrup.

At the breakfast in the church hall, the vicar's wife reached for that top cupcake first, as vicars' wives do. She bit the cherry clean off its stalk, and out came the slip, and she read it aloud before anyone could stop her. It said, in Aunt Ada's neat hand, Walter, you are mine for keeps. Walter went as pink as the icing, and the whole hall roared, and by the time the speeches started there was not a single sweet left on the plate. That, my loves, is why you never let a baker write your vows, because she will always find a way to have the last word.