Who ate all the cake?

I love baking. The other day, I made a nut cake covered in chocolate. The kids had just had a slice with a glass of milk, when a neighbour — we'll call her Ruby — stopped by. She admired the cake, and I offered her some.

"I'd give you some, but you're fasting, aren't you?" I said.

"Yes, I am, but I wouldn't say no to a slice of cake."

I cut four slices — one for each of the family. My daughter looked very unhappy.

"No, don't give her so much," she squealed. She grabbed the foil packet and doubled over it to protect it.

"Ah," said Ruby, "I see she has your sense of humour!"

"She's not being funny. She's deadly serious!"

I reassured my daughter that we had enough cake left for us and managed to get the packet out of her sticky little fingers and passed it to Ruby's child and told her to run. "Run!"

A few days later, Ruby returned the favour and gave us a big chunk of chocolate-covered Sandkuchen. When we got home, my daughter tried some.

"This is not a good cake! Your cake was so much better. I don't like this cake, and we gave Ruby a much bigger bit."

"That's a bit rude," I said.

"Yes, I think it's rude, too! She should have given us a bigger piece!"