The Gingerbread Man

In a honey-stone bakery at the edge of the fields, Baker Bea rolled a small piece of spicy dough. She shaped a round head, two arms and two quick-looking legs. Then came three white icing buttons, blue icing cuffs, a curved red smile and two currant eyes. 'There,' Bea said, sliding the tray towards the warm copper oven. 'You look ready for an adventure.'

When Bea opened the oven, the little biscuit sat up. He stretched his icing-trimmed arms, hopped onto the table, and sprang to the floor. 'Run, run, as quick as you can. You can't catch me—I'm the Gingerbread Man!' he called. Before Bea could answer, he skipped through the green door, leaving a warm ribbon of cinnamon scent curling through the bakery.

Baker Bea followed, laughing in surprise. Pip, the flour-dusted farm dog, bounded from beneath a bench and joined her. Neither was angry; they simply wanted the small runaway safe. The Gingerbread Man glanced over his shoulder and ran faster along the dusty path. His short legs flickered like two brown wheels, while his three buttons bobbed but stayed firmly in place.

Beside the red barn, a calm brown cow raised her head from the clover. 'Good morning,' she mooed. 'Where are you rushing?' The Gingerbread Man swept past her hooves. 'Run, run, as quick as you can. You can't catch me—I'm the Gingerbread Man!' Cow joined the line at an easy trot. 'Quick is useful,' she said, 'but looking ahead is useful too.'

At the duck pond, a white goose stepped away from the reeds to let him pass. Gingerbread Man gave a cheerful wave and hurried on, certain that nothing could slow him. Goose noticed dark clouds gathering over the hills upstream. 'The river may be rising,' she honked. But he was already beyond the pond, admiring how far behind everyone seemed.

The path ended at a broad blue river. Gingerbread Man stopped so suddenly that dust puffed around his feet. He could not swim, and soggy gingerbread would crumble. Soon Bea, Pip, Cow and Goose caught up, breathing hard. Nobody reached for him. Together they studied the quick water, where six flat stepping stones showed above the ripples, almost—but not quite—forming a path.

A red fox appeared between the willows. 'Climb onto my tail,' he offered. 'Then my back. Then my nose will keep you driest.' With every suggestion, the fox's amber eyes slid closer to his mouth. Gingerbread Man finally slowed his thoughts as well as his feet. 'No, thank you,' he said. Beyond the fox, he spotted one last stone hidden beneath an overhanging fern.

Bea pointed to each stone, Cow called the rhythm, Goose watched the water, and Pip waited on the far bank. Step by careful step, Gingerbread Man crossed without one soggy crumb. 'I am sorry I made everyone chase me,' he said. Back at the bakery, Bea built him a tiny gingerbread house. He still loved running—but now he always knew where home was.