It is not surprising that Anne Marie wished to visit the kitchen. It was a warm, sweet-smelling place, with great ovens filled with goodies and white-clad, white-capped, floury bakers moving steadily about their tasks.
Yes, Papa Durant was justly proud of his kitchen. He was proud of his Bakery, too. He was proud of the great gold-and-black sign, ‘French Pastry Shop,’ that stretched over the Bakery door and directly under the window where Anne Marie now stood.
And Papa Durant was proud of Anne Marie from the crown of her little black curly head to the tips of her twinkling dancing toes. He loved the sparkle in her big black eyes, the dimple in her chin, and her gay little smile.
But this afternoon Anne Marie was not smiling. Not even the promise of ‘a tart, a very little tart’ for her supper could make her feel more cheerful.
For Anne Marie longed for a playmate. She was tired of all her toys. Grand’mère was good to Anne Marie, as good as gold. She knitted for her mittens and stockings without number, and even now was at work upon a scarf for her, a scarlet scarf that matched Anne Marie’s cheeks and would make her look like a Robin Redbreast, so Papa Durant laughingly said. But Grand’mère needed so many naps that she really couldn’t count as a playmate. Even when she told Anne Marie a story, of princesses perhaps and of white cats and a fairy prince, at the most exciting moment Grand’mère would be sure to remember the evening soup that must be prepared and would quite forget about Anne Marie and the fairies.
Now, as Anne Marie stood looking out at the rain, she was thinking, thinking hard.
‘I will think of the naughtiest thing I can do,’ said Anne Marie to herself, ‘and then I will do it.’
So she thought and thought, and at last she made up her mind.
‘I will not eat my soup at supper to-night,’ said Anne Marie, smiling at her own naughtiness. ‘I am tired of Grand’mère’s soup. And to-night, when every one sleeps, I will creep downstairs to the Bakery and eat the huge cake in the front window, the white wedding cake with the tiny bride and groom standing arm in arm on top. I will eat it every crumb.’
Anne Marie was so pleased with this idea that there is no telling what fresh piece of mischief she might have planned if at that moment a heavy automobile truck had not come swinging round the corner and dashed up the middle of the street. And even as Anne Marie stared at the truck, glad of something new and exciting to see, there bounced, from the back of the wagon, a box, a large box, that fell with a splash into a puddle directly under the window where Anne Marie stood.