'Who are you?' he wheezes.
'I am the Princess,' replies the Princess and points to you and me. 'These are my friends,' she says, 'who have come to take me back to the King and the Queen who are my father and mother who love me very much and whom I love very much. We miss each other and I want to return home so I can be with them. The narrow, twisty trail to the cove where our gallant ship is waiting led us into this tunnel. We have no choice but to follow it. Please let us pass.'
'The ancient Elf has not taken his eyes from the Princess.
'Do you bake?' he wheezes.
'Do I bake?' cries the Princess. 'What do you mean by that? Are you going to bake me?'
'The Princess, you and I raise our clubs. No one is going to bake our
Princess. No siree, not if we can stop it.
'There is a long silence. The ancient, stooped Elf stares at each of us.
We stare back at him. The crowd of Elves closes around us.
'The old, old Elf smiles.
'I don't mean, do YOU bake, but only do you bake? No, that doesn't sound right, does it? Can you bake? Can you bake bread and rolls? There, that's better.'
'Huh,' I say.