Hall of Infinite Doors
"Shouldn't you children be heading home?" you call out cheerfully to the two little Gingerbreads, forgetting for a moment that you haven't actually met them yet. The affectionate familiarity that almost everyone in the market felt for Mrs. Gingerbread seems to have rubbed off on you. Your cheeks rosy in the chilly hair, your arms full of colorful and aromatic packages, you smile happily at the two children.
The children stare bewilderedly back at you. The little girl backs up in fear while the little boy ventures a step closer to you.
"Who are you?" he asks suspiciously, narrowing one crusty little eye in your direction.
"I'm a guest at your parents' house and I've just come back from the market where I did some shopping for our dinner."
"Who said you could stay for dinner?" demands the little boy.
"Your mom," you reply a little edgily, thinking that he is the mirror image of his father, minus the Caramel '38 of course. You attempt to ease the tension by introducing yourself.
"Well, I'm Saffron," the little boy replies. "And this is Dolce, my little sister."
"Pleased to meet you both," you say, essaying your most disarming smile in shy little Dolce's direction. She turns and runs towards the house. You certainly have a way with children.
"Let me see what you have there," Saffron says, taking your parcels right out of your hands. "Ooh!" he shouts with glee. "Big blue gumballs! And extra-long cinnamon sticks!" He is so excited to see these things that he too turns and runs towards the house, leaving you there, empty-handed in the snow.
Slowly, you make your way back to the Gingerbreads' house. You feel completely worn out, not to mention absolutely ravenous. The smell of baking gingerbread is gone, but you can hear the children running around inside and also the irritated voice of Mr. Gingerbread trying to calm them. You take a deep breath, wipe your feet on the marzipan welcome mat, and knock politely at the door.
The children stare bewilderedly back at you. The little girl backs up in fear while the little boy ventures a step closer to you.
"Who are you?" he asks suspiciously, narrowing one crusty little eye in your direction.
"I'm a guest at your parents' house and I've just come back from the market where I did some shopping for our dinner."
"Who said you could stay for dinner?" demands the little boy.
"Your mom," you reply a little edgily, thinking that he is the mirror image of his father, minus the Caramel '38 of course. You attempt to ease the tension by introducing yourself.
"Well, I'm Saffron," the little boy replies. "And this is Dolce, my little sister."
"Pleased to meet you both," you say, essaying your most disarming smile in shy little Dolce's direction. She turns and runs towards the house. You certainly have a way with children.
"Let me see what you have there," Saffron says, taking your parcels right out of your hands. "Ooh!" he shouts with glee. "Big blue gumballs! And extra-long cinnamon sticks!" He is so excited to see these things that he too turns and runs towards the house, leaving you there, empty-handed in the snow.
Slowly, you make your way back to the Gingerbreads' house. You feel completely worn out, not to mention absolutely ravenous. The smell of baking gingerbread is gone, but you can hear the children running around inside and also the irritated voice of Mr. Gingerbread trying to calm them. You take a deep breath, wipe your feet on the marzipan welcome mat, and knock politely at the door.